Now I'm the fuckboy

even though it’s dark outside, the curtains on the windows are wide open. there’s remnants of an evening snack all over the kitchen countertops, a stray plate and crumbs on the dining table. the television has been left paused on some youtube video, the bright screen casting the room in a pale glow. he glances down - your shoes are lined up neatly next to his own feet. so you must be home.

“y/n?” he calls out, blinking in confusion when he hears no reply.

well. that’s strange.

he says your name again, stepping further into your shared home with slow, careful steps. when you reply, your bright voice carrying mutely from the bedroom, something in his chest loosens.

taesan’s feet pad softly across the floor as he makes his way over to where you are - yet when he turns into the bedroom’s doorway, the sight of you makes him pause. there you are, perched precariously on the edge of your bed, pressing your fingers to the ceiling. you must hear him leaning against the doorframe, because you turn to him with a smile. “you’re finally home!”

he nods, smiling back. “hi, darling.”

“hi,” you say, but your gaze is intense as you scan his face. he looks away after a moment, eyes settling on a few sheets scattered on your bedside table underneath soft lamplight.

“what have you been up to?”

you sit down on the bed, shaking your head. “nothing much. sit down,” you say, patting the space next to you. taesan obliges, letting out a small sigh when he settles on the soft mattress. you watch him, tilting your head slightly. “how was work?”

he’s silent for a moment. “tiring,” he says. “i… i wanted to work on songs today. but i just couldn’t.”

you hum softly, and taesan feels yet another knot unravel, deep in his chest where his soul must be. he hadn’t quite realized how tired he was until you’d asked. he reaches out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, smiling when you look up at him with wide eyes.

“i just wanted to see you,” he says quietly, his fingers trailing down your arm before finding your hand. he intertwines his fingers with yours, and he watches as your features soften, your lips curving up and rounding your cheeks.

“i’m here,” you murmur as taesan pulls you towards him. his palm settles on your waist as both of your hands come up to cup his face. then he’s kissing you, or you’re kissing him. who knows? not him. all he knows is that you’re warm, you’re solid underneath his fingertips, you’re real and here and he gets to feel the softness of your lips against his. you pull away after a moment, your fingers sliding into his hair as you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. but taesan chases after your lips, kissing you again, smiling against your skin when you giggle softly.

when he finally pulls away from you, it’s not to anywhere far. he lets go of your hand to place his palm on your back, pulling you down with him as he leans back. you let out a small yelp as you fall onto the mattress beside him, and taesan laughs, for the first time in what feels like a while.

that’s when he notices it.

a soft, green glow from the ceiling. glow-in-the-dark stars. he looks at you with a small smile. “when did you do that?”

you grin. “just today. i was putting up the last of them when you came in. do you like them?”

taesan looks up at the ceiling again. the stars are scattered in constellations across their new sky, and he thinks he can recognize a few. he turns back to you, to your bright eyes and wide smile. to you, who has quite literally hung the stars in the sky.

his sky.

“i love them,” he whispers, brushing your hair out of your face to see the reflection of the stars in your eyes. “thank you, darling.”

as you snuggle closer to him, taesan thinks he can barely remember why he was so tired. here, with you, under a ceiling full of stars, he’s perfectly content. he’s perfectly content to just lie here and do nothing with you.

٠ ࣪⭑ © starriniqhts 2026, all rights reserved.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚ want to check out the planetarium's other exhibits?

As soon as your alarm went off, you knew it would be a good day.

You had been waiting for this day all year. Seeing and being there for the boys' birthday lives had really gotten you worked up. You never made their birthday lives about yourself, obviously. It was their day, not yours.

But who doesn't get excited for their birthday? It's the one day that's all about them! It's the day that they receive gifts and are acknowledged and appreciated and posted all over social media. It's the one time that no one is allowed to ruin your moment and shift the attention to themselves.

Yeah. Long story short, you were excited. More than excited. You were ecstatic.

You had even planned out a trip to your favorite local bakery to celebrate with the boys. You picked out a comfy outfit for the day, as well as a color theme for your birthday live.

It was a cute beige theme with some silver and gold to represent your skzoo, the gazelle. You had earned it due to your agility and speed, both athletically and in terms of choreography and overall stage performance. Everyone, including you, decided it was perfect.

The main thing you were looking forward to wasn't presents or cake, though.

You were really looking forward to the recognition and affection you'd receive from the boys. That was one of your only concerns with any holidays. Your birthday was always a bit special, though. You wanted to spend time with the ones you loved most, which was your family.

Although you still had a good relationship with your parents, you were an only child. You had considered the boys your family for years now. You saw them as your older brothers, and they saw you as their younger sister. You all were really close, after all. Family isn't always by blood.

But there was one problem.

Lately, everyone had been super busy. Staff had tried opening up more opportunities for performances, and it flooded you and the boys with so much practice and planning that you all could barely remember to take care of yourselves. Chan didn't really try to fight it, either. He was all about work. He had probably one of the best work ethics you had seen, but it made you worry a lot of the time, too. Even when he was resting, he'd talk about how he could be working instead.

But in the past, your birthday had landed on some busy weeks, and no one forgot. Everyone's birthdays were always busy. You nine were literally K-pop stars; of course, you'd all be busy year-round.

You told yourself that it was irrational to think that the boys would forget, though. Even on the busiest weeks, nobody's birthday had been forgotten yet.

You reassured yourself with positive affirmations as you got out of bed, heading to the bathroom attached to your bedroom. You took a shower, using your favorite scented body washes. Usually, you'd be quicker and use common or unscented products. Today was special, though! If you wanted to smell like coconut and summer or strawberry cheesecake, you had every right!

You got out and dried off, putting on that comfy and movable outfit for practice.

You were officially 23! You made it another year!

You excitedly checked your phone for any new notifications. Maybe one of the boys, or all of them, had texted you.

But when you checked your phone, there were no new notifications from any of them. You had a lot from Twitter, which you checked. A lot of STAYs were wishing you a happy birthday, and it made you smile warmly.

You were about to reply to one of the posts, but Jeongin texted you and asked where you were, so you quickly closed the app and put your phone in your pocket, hurrying to the company building.

You had forgotten that you still had practice today. You honestly would've thought that since it was your birthday, everyone could get a little time off before and after practice. It was still fairly early, so maybe everyone had just forgotten. No big deal! Practice would only take a few hours, as usual. You'd still be able to go to your favorite bakery and get some treats to share with them!

But when you stepped into the practice room, you noticed that everyone already looked annoyed with today.

Maybe something had happened just now that you had barely missed?

You weren't scared or intimidated by any of them, but you were still able to read the room. So, you kept your mouth shut. Maybe right now wasn't the best time to ask.

"You were almost late, Y/Nnie. Thought we'd have to start without you," Chan greeted you with a soft smile, yawning.

Everyone still wanted to be asleep, but a career is a career. Sacrifices had to be made, and sometimes, extra sleep was one of them. Everything had been piling on more and more lately.

"Don't worry. I know you all just missed me because I'm so awesome. I get it," you joked, which made Han, who was originally staring off into space, laugh softly and mock you playfully.

You thought it would just be a normal day. Practice for a few hours, and then be done by around 2 P.M., or 3 at the latest. You'd all still have time to spend together. It'd be a good day, even if you wished you just didn't have to practice at all. A comeback was soon, though, and a lot of the songs still needed some experimenting before they were fully decided.

Practice started off light. The choreography was pretty simple. It felt kind of like a warm-up, honestly.

The first hour passed quicker than you realized. Despite everyone making a few small mistakes on each take, it was pretty smooth. You all were just getting the hang of it.

Chan made a few corrections, telling each member what they needed to work on, and you all nodded.

You all did take after take. Eventually, during the second hour, you all were allowed a short 5-minute break. You all were getting a bit more adjusted, as this dance was more fast-paced than usual. It wasn't exactly difficult, but it would definitely take a little bit to get it down, especially since it had more synchronized moves as well.

Hyunjin sat down, head leaned back against the wall as he groaned dramatically, claiming Chan was trying to kill him.

"Actually, no. Not just me. You're trying to kill all of us," he added on before taking a swig from his water bottle.

"Drama queen," you muttered, flicking him in the forehead while taking a swig from your own bottle.

"Hey! I'm actually a king, thank you very much," he immediately piped up.

"Calm down, princess," you replied, giggling when you saw his expression.

"This is bullying. I'm reporting you to staff," he whined before standing up.

You followed after, quickly getting up and going back over beside Seungmin for the choreography again.

It was currently 9:30, and you knew that although it would be a long practice full of nothing but dancing and maybe some vocalization training as well, it would still be a good day. You guys didn't have any meetings or interviews or anything else of the sorts scheduled today, so you all could get a little bit of rest once practice was over.

The business practically stripped everyone of any other thought, though. Everyone was focused on one thing: get the music done. Music wasn't just words, either. Music was art. You had to look and feel alive for it, and most of the time, that came through the form of dancing.

It was worth it, though. STAY deserved it. After all of the years of both rough and soft moments, STAY had grown with you guys. They deserved new songs published on a regular basis, even if it meant more work for you guys. You guys would rest... eventually.

You were used to comebacks. They were chaotic, they were busy, they were tiring, and they were a lot of work. But it was worth it. When you went online and saw the way STAY blew up for a week straight over a new album, it reminded you why you did this for a living.

The hours passed by, and everyone got more and more tired. You all were used to performing, but dancing for hours on end with few breaks would tire anyone out.

Nothing too interesting happened during practice. Sure, there was some playful bickering the entire time, but that was normal. You guys had to do something to pass the time.

But for some reason, you noticed that even when it fell quiet, no one said anything to you. It wasn't that they were ignoring you or being rude, but it was 12 now, and you hadn't received a "happy birthday" from any of them.

You tried to brush it off, though. They were just focused. There were still 3 hours of practice, after all. Everyone was trying to just get it over with.

Those 3 hours went by quickly enough, and you tried to think of something to do. Seems dumb to want to do more stuff right after dancing for hours on end, but you just wanted to hang out with the boys in some sort of way.

So, you asked if they wanted to grab a coffee. You even offered to pay. You just wanted to spend time any way you could. Everyone had been extremely busy lately, and you guys hadn't really even had a moment to breathe, let alone be together except for practice. You knew that once the comeback progressed, practice would go from 6 hours to 12, easily.

Felix was about to reply, but Chan had that look on his face. He had the look that screamed that he was up to something. So, Felix stopped and listened, as did everyone else.

"You're all gonna hate me, but we have to finish some lines, too," he mumbled.

Everyone let out a collective groan. No one was really annoyed, though. You all just wanted some free time. Practice had been going on for hours now.

But you still had to get a playful jab in when you could, so you did.

"Just say you hate me," you complained, to which he apologized while laughing to try and break some of the tension and exhaustion in the room.

Okay, well... this wasn't looking so good. It was already 3 in the afternoon, and going over lines and practicing vocals and certain pitches and notes could take anywhere from 1 hour to another 3. It all depended on how much effort and editing had to be done to everyone's voices. Sometimes yours took 30 minutes. Sometimes, they took 2 hours.

But you couldn't just leave, even if that was all you wanted to do at the moment. You had a few lines, and you already knew Chan was always serious about everything being perfect. You didn't blame him, but it did usually take more time.

You still pushed through, though. You had to keep redoing your lines. One second, you were doing perfect, and the next, your voice cracked. Then, your voice pitched, and it wasn't the admirable, high note reaching type. You almost facepalmed when you replayed it and heard the way you practically squeaked as your voice betrayed you.

By the time practice was over, it was roughly 4:45. Not too bad, honestly, especially with how much you all had covered.

Most of the day was already spent, and everyone was tired and sweaty by now, but you still wanted to spend time with them. There was a café only a few streets away, and you all could walk there.

You found it weird that no one had said anything to you, though. You didn't want to pressure them or anything, but if you were being honest, it was starting to hurt a bit. Every time it was their birthday, you always made sure to say it to them as soon as you saw them. Now, when it was your turn, it seemed like everyone had forgotten.

So, you tried to remind them. Maybe if you kept hinting that you wanted to hang out, they would remember.

You approached Hyunjin and Han, knowing that they were usually down to go get coffee.

Han looked over as he was finishing his water bottle.

"Hi, Y/Nnie," he said with a smile.

"Hey," you began, smiling softly back at him. "Do you and Hyunjin wanna go get some coffee with me? Maybe we can invite the others too?"

Han looked at Hyunjin for just a second, his cheery expression faltered.

"Ah... Y/Nnie, we're sorry, but, uhm..." Han began, trailing off.

"We planned on going to the gym after practice with Changbin. I think Innie wanted to come along, too. We can make some room for you if you want," Hyunjin finished Han's words for him.

At least he offered you the opportunity to go out.

You weren't trying to be picky. You really weren't. But it was just that you were already used to going to the gym with all of them. It wasn't their fault for wanting to go work out, but today was special. You wanted something a little more than just the gym.

"Ohhh, okay. I gotcha," you started off. "Uhm, no thanks. Don't worry about it. Sorry, I'm not trying to be difficult. I just-"

"It's okay, Y/Nnie. We go a lot. You don't have to explain yourself. Sometimes you just don't wanna go," Hyunjin interrupted, knowing that you often tried to make up excuses for not wanting to do something.

It was a bad habit of yours before you even met them. You had always been a people pleaser, which often meant that if you didn't want to do something, you tried to come up with an excuse. You knew it was bad to lie, but you always felt guilty simply for turning something or someone down.

You nodded, an awkward smile paired with it.

Well, you were gonna actually explain why, but... nevermind. It's fine. Even though half of the group was busy, the other half may not have anything to do.

Felix always hung out with you! Maybe you could ask him instead!

He was already gone, though. So was Seungmin. They had probably both headed to their dorm to freshen up.

Alright... no big deal! Chan was still here, and Minho was-

Well... not here. He had literally just walked out as you were walking over to Chan. He probably wanted to take a shower after sweating all day. You didn't blame him.

But Chan was still here! Why not ask him?

Chan was always really gentle and caring towards you. He was towards everyone, but he was always just a little softer on you since you were the youngest. Maybe you could use that to your advantage this time..? He usually lets you get away with just a bit more anyway!

So, you walked over to him, your practice bag still swaying by your side.

You tapped him as he was just about to leave, and he turned around, letting out a soft hum in response.

"Hi Channie," you said, slightly dragging out his name at the end.

He smiled warmly. You used to do that a lot when you were younger. You'd drag his name out when you wanted something, such as a schedule request or more information that you weren't really supposed to have. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn't.

"What do you want?" he asked, smile never changing as he set his bag down.

You paused for a second as he stared at you, waiting for your response.

You began wondering if he was busy. What if he was? You knew he was already stressed enough with how much he worked.

But you weren't about to just waste his time. It was better to ask instead of assuming. Maybe he had a bit of spare time today.

"Do you wanna go get a coffee with me? Or go on a walk or something? It's pretty nice outside, and there's a café a few blocks away from here and the dorms. We can just walk there," you offered.

That was when his smile changed just a bit.

"Oh, uhm- ahah, so-" he began, stammering slightly.

You knew he was about to turn you down. He was just trying to find the words to make it seem like he wasn't. You knew how he was. He was just like you. It was why you two got along so well. He never wanted to hurt anyone's feelings unless it was in a playful way, which even then, he was careful about.

"If you're busy, it's fine. Just thought I'd ask," you said with a shrug, trying to seem unbothered.

"I am, but it's just- I don't know. I feel bad saying no. We've been so busy lately, and we haven't been able to really spend any time together except for practice, you know? I don't want you thinking I'm just trying to ignore you," he explained.

He began rambling, though. Gosh, you two really did have a lot in common.

So, you stopped him before he began blaming himself, which he seemed like he was already jumping into.

"Chan, it's fine, seriously. That's why I asked. You're allowed to say no. It's okay," you said with a soft chuckle.

"I know, but I just feel bad doing that. I have some things to work on on my laptop. You know, files, editing... all that fun stuff," he continued, sarcasm in his tone during the last few words.

You just smiled.

"Yeah, I get it. I'm just gonna go back to my dorm. Bye, Channie," you mumbled.

He said goodbye to you as well before you turned and walked out, your bag thrown over your shoulder.

Okay... well, that didn't go as planned.

You decided that when you got back to your dorm, you'd just take a shower and then see if you still had some time.

It was a bit late already, though. It was 4:50 now, only 10 minutes until 5:00.

The walk to your dorm was quiet as you checked your phone for any new notifications.

You had a few texts from your parents. You opened your messages and smiled as you read them. They were full of sweet words and wishes. They even offered to take you out to dinner if you had any free time tonight since you didn't have a curfew.

You texted back, telling them that you would love to go to dinner, but wanted to wait and see if the guys wanted to hang out first. If they were all busy, then you'd go with them instead. You'd always had a good relationship with your parents. They were always there for you and tried to make you feel better. You never really felt alone because of them. Any time you did, you would just text them. They'd always comfort you.

You quickly got inside your dorm, put your hair up, and took another long, hot shower, using your favorite products yet again.

When you got out and dried off, you changed into that cute outfit you had picked earlier. You wanted to do the birthday live later tonight, but you thought it wouldn't hurt to look cute for a couple extra hours.

You waited for another 10 minutes, scrolling on social media and smiling as you saw all of the birthday wishes from STAY. You even replied to a few of them with heart emojis and smiles, thanking them for all the support they gave you and the boys constantly.

Then, you decided to see if the boys were busy that way you could text your parents back.

You texted Minho first.

'heyyy'

'Minho :) 🐇 : Hii'

'do you wanna go get some coffee with me or smth? like hang out idk'

'Minho :) 🐇 : Sorry Y/N but I'm cleaning right now. I haven't really had time to do anything lately, and Han's not here right now so I kinda wanna just get it done while I have some alone time.'

'Minho :) 🐇 : Maybe another time?'

'oh yeah sure!!'

'Minho :) 🐇 : Again, sorry'

'don't apologize :) it's okay! cleaning calms you down. you need to relax anyways. have fun! love you!!'

'Minho :) 🐇 : I love you too Y/Nnie. Thank you'

You only had two more people to ask.

Why was everyone suddenly so busy?

You understood, but... at the same time, why? Why couldn't anyone spare at least a little time?

Had they actually forgotten?

There was no way. They had never forgotten your birthday before, ever! Why would they now?

You decided to wait a bit. Maybe if you asked to do something other than go out, they would accept it? Maybe they just didn't want to go out in public right now. You understood that.

So, you changed your plans. Maybe you could get something and invite Felix and Seungmin over for some and save some for the others.

That sounded like a better plan, honestly. Maybe going out just wasn't the move today.

You began wondering if you should have just waited for a bit before asking Felix and Seungmin.

They had only been in their dorms for 30 to 40 minutes.

Were you being too pushy? You weren't trying to take all of the attention, but it was your day. You weren't trying to be selfish or overly sensitive, but you felt forgotten. No one had even said anything to you today. Sure, you all joked around during practice today, but no birthday wishes or anything.

Your thoughts began overwhelming you, so you decided to just put your phone down and follow after Lee Know's habit: stress cleaning. Maybe if you tidied up for 30 minutes, you would feel like you had waited long enough to ask someone else to hang out.

You didn't want to push them too far. They were probably still tired.

But daylight was running out. The sun was still up, but it was 5:30. It was beginning to turn into evening.

Still, you pushed that thought down and began tidying up anything that looked out of place. You even rearranged your room a little.

When around 30 minutes passed, you decided to ask. At least they had had some time to relax by now.

You decided to text Seungmin first.

'minnie'

'hey minnie'

You gave him a minute to answer. Usually, when you double texted, he'd answer pretty quickly.

That minute passed. No answer. So, you texted again.

'minnieeee'

Another minute went by. No response.

So, you tried one last text. Maybe it would catch his attention.

'don't ignore me on my birthday ☹️'

Still, after 30 seconds, no answer.

Maybe you could text Felix instead.

'felixxx'

'Lixie 🫂🤞 <3 : hi y/nnie :)'

'oh my gosh you actually answered lol. i tried texting seungmin but he wasn't answering for like 3 minutes'

'Lixie 🫂🤞 <3 : 3 minutes was all it took?'

'you know i'm impatient :('

'Lixie 🫂🤞 <3 : he's cleaning right now lol. he has his notifications silenced so he can listen to music'

'Lixie 🫂🤞 <3 : you're not the only one he's blocking out trust me'

'Lixie 🫂🤞 <3 : 😞'

'oh wow you guys are cleaning too? i texted minho earlier and he was also cleaning lol. what a coincidence'

'Lixie 🫂🤞 <3 : yeah we've been neglecting our dorm... and our laundry...... so guess what i'm doing rn :D'

'awww poor lix :( at least you'll have clean clothes tho yayayay!!'

'Lixie 🫂🤞 <3 : yesyes a very sad day indeed'

'Lixie 🫂🤞 <3 : anyways what did you need us for? since yk you were trying to get ahold of seungmin earlier too'

'oh right lol oops'

'well i wanted to know if you wanted to come over to my dorm and hang out'

'maybe share some cake or something? perchance??? 🥹'

'Lixie 🫂🤞 <3 : sigh i would love to but i'm stuck doing laundry right now and i kinda wanna get it done tonight'

'Lixie 🫂🤞 <3 : sorry y/nnie. do you want me to come over tomorrow after practice instead?'

'oh'

'no it's fine haha'

'Lixie 🫂🤞 <3 : are you sure?'

'Lixie 🫂🤞 <3 : you're typing a little weird now. is something going on?'

'nothing i just feel alone. i miss you guys'

'Lixie 🫂🤞 <3 : aww just as clingy as always'

'be quiet'

'Lixie 🫂🤞 <3 : we saw each other at practice today did we not? lol'

'yeah but i just wanted to spend some extra time with all of you today'

'Lixie 🫂🤞 <3 : why? because we've all been busy lately?'

'well yeah but also because today's special'

'Lixie 🫂🤞 <3 : oh yeah?'

'do you actually not know?'

He didn't answer for a few long seconds. You knew that he was probably staring at his screen in confusion while thinking about what he could be missing.

And honestly, picturing that made your heart break just a little bit. Not for him, but for yourself.

'wait did you actually forget? did everyone else forget too?'

'Lixie 🫂🤞 <3 : forget what y/nnie? i'm not trying to be mean but i'm not grasping the concept here'

'oh'

'alr'

'nvm then'

'go back to your laundry then felix it's fine if you don't remember, honestly'

'Lixie 🫂🤞 <3 : wait nonono pls im sorry what did i say? i didn't mean to be rude'

'Lixie 🫂🤞 <3 : y/nnie please im sorry i didn't mean to do anything to hurt you'

'it's alright. i'm just being overdramatic'

And as soon as he began typing, you dropped the bomb.

'just thought you guys would remember my birthday. everyone's suddenly so busy today lol. i kinda just wanted someone to at least remember'

His text bubble disappeared, and then appeared again. Then, it disappeared again.

He didn't answer after that.

As much as that hurt, at least you had an answer for your parents now. It was still light enough outside to enjoy dinner with them. At least you had them.

You called your parents and told them you were free, so they made arrangements for the restaurant. It was only around 20 minutes away.

5 minutes went by, and you decided to leave early to go meet up with your parents. They didn't live that far outside of Seoul.

It was only a 20 minute walk, so you decided to just take it. It was nice outside anyway. The sun was warm and comforting, and there weren't as many people out as usual.

You had only walked 2 minutes before you received a text.

It was from... Chan?

You still paid attention to your surroundings, but you opened your messages, clicking on the new text he had sent you.

'Channie 🫶🏻 : Y/N, I'm so so sorry. We're all so sorry'

But before you could reply, he sent more. He was typing pretty quickly, as if he were panicked in a way.

'Channie 🫶🏻 : I don't know how we just let it slip our minds like that. I should have known something was up when you kept asking everyone if they wanted to hang out after practice'

'Channie 🫶🏻 : I should have known from the moment you offered to go out for coffee. You even offered to pay. You never do that'

'Channie 🫶🏻 : I'm so sorry Y/Nnie. I'm such an idiot'

'Channie 🫶🏻 : Can I come over? Do you still wanna go grab that coffee? Do you just want to hang out?'

You texted back, heart racing a bit.

'you're busy channie it's okay. i understand, really. and thank you for the offer, but i'm okay. i'm gonna meet up with my parents for some dinner'

'they offered it if none of you guys were up to hanging out, and everyone seemed busy, so'

And just like Felix, his text bubble stuttered as well.

You shut your phone off, putting it back in your pocket. It was only 5:50, 10 minutes until 6. You'd get to the restaurant at around 6:05 or a little later.

Well, at least your parents would be there.

At least they would say something to you.

At least they would make you think...

Happy birthday to me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

lowkey felt kinda lonely so i decided to write this lol. got bored and sad at 12 A.M. and saw the perfect request so 🥹🤞 yayay

this isn't proofread so i'm sorry if this is booty guys forgive me pls

pls let me know what you guys want to see in the next part!!! i can try to publish it within the next few days :) been feeling much more motivated to write lately <3

thank you soso much for reading, and i hope you enjoyed this first part!!!

Platonic intimacy is a concept that has always wracked your brain. 

What touches are friendly?

Does it still count as innocent when gentle touches and glances linger a moment longer than they are supposed to? You still weren’t clear about what was normal or not, but you could always tell when something felt different. 

That’s how it was with Chan. It had always been that way with him. 

You aren’t sure what it was, but every time that Chan would wrap his arms around you after a long practice, your chest tightened in a way that never happened with the other members. You always shrugged off Hyunjin’s sweaty embrace, but you always welcomed your leader with open arms. Maybe it was the way that the hug settled with you longer after Chan left. Maybe it was something deeper — but that couldn’t be true. 

The other members noticed this too. The boys always joked about Jeongin having favorites when it came to skinship, but the jokes quickly shifted once you joined the group. You were known as ‘Chan’s favorite,’ both within the group and amongst the fandom. Sure, Chan naturally gravitated toward you with affection, but the way that you exclusively melted under his fingertips is what truly made the jokes explode and the shippers go crazy. 

Fans started calling you ‘Chan’s last but first baby.’ You were the last member to join the group, but it was obvious that the bond that the two of you had outweighed his relationships with the others. Chan says that he doesn’t have a favorite, but everyone has heard that all so familiar lie. It’s the same lie that parents around the world share from birth. 

Even as Chan denied his favoritism, the whole ‘baby’ thing started to catch on to him as well. It didn’t affect you much when the fans would refer to you as being his baby. However, the moment that pet name left his lips, you were in complete shambles. 

“What are you going to order, baby?” Chan asked casually, leaning over to peek at your menu as if it wasn’t the same one that you had. 

Immediately, you choked as your brain processed his words. 

“Chan!” you whisper-shouted at him. 

“What? Are you still deciding what to get?” his brows furrowed in confusion, but you took note of the playful glint hiding in his eyes. 

“You can’t just call me that. Especially not while we are recording!” you scolded him, still maintaining a quiet enough voice to not draw the attention to the two of you. By now, the tips of your ears were already turning crimson. The last thing that you needed was to go viral for being flustered in this moment. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chan shrugged with a slight pout on his lips. “I personally think that Stay would love the nickname.”

“You are so annoying,” you teased, lightly bumping him with your shoulder. “You just want to torture me for the fans’ enjoyment.”

“Torture?” Chan mocked offence. “If anything,” Chan smirked before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “I think that you are enjoying this, baby.” The pet name rolled off of his lips again, this time in a teasing whisper. 

“I hate you,” you groaned, slumping into your chair, trying to shrink away from Chan. Even as you were covering your undeniably warm face, you could tell that all eyes were now on you. 

“Y/N hates Chan-hyung?” Hyunjin dramatically gasped.

“No fighting at the dinner table, boys,” Minho stifled a laugh at the sight of your crumpled figure. 

It is safe to say that the fans were fully fed with that minute of content. There were many speculations about what had happened between scenes when recording. One moment the camera was focused on Seungmin, and then the next you were shown furiously blushing beside an overly-giddy Chan. A decent amount of people made accurate predictions as to what made you flustered when Chan called you baby a few more times throughout the video. 

A few months after that recording is when you finally came to terms with the fact that you had feelings for Chan. 

As much as you did not want to feel that way about your leader, he made it nearly impossible to not swoon every time that he walked in the room. The pet names were only the beginning of the ever-growing flirting coursing through Chan’s veins. 

The thing that started all of this mess is what affected you the most: physical touch. 

With each passing week, Chan grew bolder with his touches. During dance practice, his hands would always find themselves lingering on your skin. He swore that he was trying to guide your movement, but Minho insisted that your form looked great the first time. 

Any time that the other boys had a chance to get close to you, Chan always found a way to squeeze himself in. Jisung wants to sit next to you during movie night? Not a chance. One time, Chan used the excuse of needing snacks to steal Felix’s spot curled up into your side. You couldn’t tell if your heart was reacting to the sad pout on Felix’s lips when he returned or if Chan alone truly had that much of an impact on your wellbeing. You later decided that Chan was the sole culprit of your arrhythmia when your pulse continued to skyrocket as the man beside you slowly drifted to sleep. Even in his sleep, Chan somehow managed to tighten his grip on you, his fingers melting into the sliver of skin on your hip exposed from your bunched up hoodie. 

The cherry on top of it all were the innocent pecks he scattered across your body.

Sure, Chan had also started giving tiny kisses to the other members as well. There was the occasional shoulder kiss when he swayed with Han. There was that time that he kissed Jeongin’s cheek on his birthday — much to Jeongin’s dismay. However, none of those moments compared to the way that Chan approached you. Each feather-like kiss felt dramatic and intentional. 

Of course, you still have to assume innocence in his actions. He wasn’t making any grand gestures. He was simply placing a kiss to the top of your head, your cheeks, your temple — places that could easily be excused as friendly. 

Though, why were you the one that received this skinship the most?

That was a question that you didn’t linger on for too long. While you had accepted your feelings for Chan, you also acknowledged that misreading his actions could be detrimental to your friendship. So, instead, you stayed quiet. 

You instantly regretted your silence the moment that Sol was hired onto the team. 

Once your regular makeup artist had to take a few months off for maternity-leave, Sol was hired to fill her space for the time being. Chan immediately reacted to her presence, and you hated every bit of it. 

Chan was a natural flirt, but it always felt different with you. The moment that you saw him interact with Sol, your heart stumbled at the familiar energy flowing with his words. Sitting side-by-side as Chan was getting his makeup finished, you couldn’t help but feel nauseous at the blatant flirting occurring beside you. When you dared to sneak a glance at the man beside you, you instantly recognized that playful pout adorning his lips.

It hurt to see that his eyes weren’t on you — they were on Sol, the beautiful woman who was definitely doing more than her job entailed to ensure that Chan was pleased. Chan clearly wanted a reaction, but — unintentionally — the biggest reaction of all seemed to be the pain that lingered in your chest with each passing word. 

You knew that things were going downhill when you started spotting Sol outside of her scheduled work hours. 

Like many times before, you had found yourself wandering around the dorms with nothing to do. With it being super late, most of the members weren’t even awake for you to bother. Though, there is one man who is always awake at the most ungodly hours: Chan. 

Scuffing your shoes with each step up the stairs, you felt a sense of nervousness that was foreign to this routine. You often visited Chan in the studio late at night; you weren’t sure why you felt anxious now.  In hindsight, your body was likely warning you for what was to come. 

The moment that you reached the familiar door to the studio, you hesitated. Your hand slightly hovered over the doorknob as you heard faint voices through the hardwood. 

Was 3racha working on something tonight? You could have sworn that you saw Changbin earlier today. 

Shaking off your confusion, you wrapped your fingers around the doorknob, the cold metal bringing you back to reality. Cracking the door open, you wished you had stayed at the dorms instead. 

Rather than interrupting a production-session, it seemed that you interrupted an intimate moment between Chan and Sol. The two of them were nestled on the couch in the back of the room, sitting way closer than any two coworkers should.

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” you immediately apologized, already wanting to flee the scene. 

Chan coughed and adjusted his posture, “Nah man, you’re good. What’s up?” The tone of his voice carried a clear message: ‘I am establishing that we are just bros.’

Man? Chan hadn’t called you that since your debut. It was obvious that Sol was causing him to act differently toward you. Not that she was intentionally doing anything to persuade him — she just brought an energy that Chan clearly gravitated toward. 

“You good?” Chan snapped you back into reality. 

Raising your eyes to look at him once more, you were met with Chan’s confused face and Sol’s bright, beaming smile. 

Shaking your head in an attempt to ground yourself, you murmured, “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just heading back home.” A lie that Chan saw right through. 

“Alright, bro. If you say so,” he chuckled, Sol giggling alongside him. “Get home safe.”

You couldn’t bother to reply as you sulked your way out of the room. The bubbly laughter that followed your departure only caused the pain in your chest to grow stronger. 

You didn’t go back to the dorms that night — you couldn’t. You didn’t want to know what ungodly hour Chan finally crept back home. Instead, you snuck into the dance studio down the hall where you ultimately cried yourself to sleep. Chan never texted to make sure that you had made it home safely. It wasn’t until morning that Minho discovered your frail body curled against the polished floors, cheeks stained with tears from the night before. He didn’t ask any questions. 

At first it was subtle, but Chan’s isolation eventually became hard to ignore. He was pushing you away so that he could continually grow closer and closer to Sol. 

What hurt the most is that Chan wasn’t distancing himself from the other boys — only you. He still snuggled up to Felix, Hyunjin, Changbin — literally every member but you. 

You tried to convince yourself that it wasn’t intentional, but you knew that wasn’t true. On top of avoiding you himself, he also dismissed any skinship that you tried to initiate as well. That couldn’t be excused as simple negligence. It felt as if you were being replaced — which was silly from an outside perspective, but it definitely hurt nonetheless. 

Eventually fans started to notice your gradual relationship decline. All across social media, people speculated the many reasons why Chan no longer even glanced your way in content.

Being in this industry for so long, you knew better than to read the comments. Under these circumstances, you couldn’t stop yourself from hours of endless scrolling. 

Are Chan and Y/N in their divorce era?

Why are my dads fighting? I don’t like this :( 

Did you all see the look that Chan gave Y/N? That was harsh. 

On top of the speculations, a decent amount of hate comments sprouted as well. All of them were targeted toward you. Many fans struggled to accept the addition of a ninth member once you joined the group, so it was understandable why you were the easiest to target in a time of confusion. 

Y/N had to have done something. Team Chan!

When I find out what Y/N did to break Chan’s heart, I swear —

Why is he still in the group? Clearly even Chan is put up with him these days. 

Comments like that couldn’t bother you, because you were already thinking about those things yourself. It was hard to pretend that you started to feel unwanted in your own group. Especially when you witnessed Chan defend the other members constantly. Yet, now that you were the victim of online-tormenting, Chan’s bubble was complete radio-silence. 

On one of your days off, you allowed your self-doubt to fuel your day. You had initially planned to use the day to clear your mind, but the universe had other intentions for you. 

Late into the evening, you had managed to drink yourself numb. While your tears had stopped a while ago, it was clear that you had spent most of your day drowning in your own sobs. When Chan returned home earlier than usual, he found you curled up on the couch, one too many empty bottles of soju sitting on the coffee table. Upon seeing the red staining your cheeks, Chan instantly came closer, concern written all over his face.

“Y/N…” he pouted, “What happened?” 

When Chan placed his hand on your arm and started rubbing reassuring circles against your skin, you lost it again. The alcohol had only inhibited your ability to cry for so long. The feeling of Chan’s skin against yours for the first time in weeks was enough to trigger the dam hiding behind your eyes again.

Wordlessly, Chan scooped you into his arms as your sobs continued to get louder. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” you managed to blubber through your drunken tears. 

“What? Can’t do what anymore?” Chan tried to get you to talk through whatever storm was happening in your mind. 

“This — the band — I don’t know,” you hiccuped in between your babbles. 

“The band? You’re not thinking of leaving are you?” For a moment, you could have sworn that the look in Chan’s eyes was one of pure fear. You couldn’t decipher if it was genuine or a result of your drunk mind grasping for any glimpse of hope. 

“The fans hate me,” you sobbed. “They keep telling me to leave and I think they’re right.”

“You know that isn’t true,” Chan tried to reassure you. “There are so many people that love you.”

“Not you, though.” Your words were barely above a whisper, but Chan heard them. He immediately stiffened at your mumbling. 

“What?” Chan treaded slightly as he asked for clarification. You could already tell that he was slowly trying to back away without making it obvious. 

“You hate me, Chan. You’ve made it so clear,” you sniffled as his warmth slowly faded away. 

Chan harshly grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to make direct eye contact with him. 

“What are you saying, dude?” His brows were furrowed and his body was tense — he knew exactly what you were talking about. 

“That!” you exclaimed pitifully. “‘Dude.’ What happened to ‘baby’? Huh? You used to be so sweet to me.” Your lip quivered as you watched his face turn in disgust. 

“Don’t-” Chan tried to dismiss you. 

“Don’t what?” you immediately retaliate. “Don’t point out the obvious? Everyone knows that you are pushing me away, Chan. The other members, fans, me! Everyone had noticed.”

“You’re just drunk, man,” he sighed. 

“No. You don’t get to do that.” For once, your anger was starting to point toward him rather than yourself. 

“Do what?” Chan scoffed. 

“Hurt me over and over again and pretend like I am insane.” Chan slightly flinched at your words, but you couldn’t even notice in your state. 

“I didn’t say that you were insane. I said that you were drunk,” he tried to justify his words, but there was no use. 

“Me being drunk doesn’t take away the fact that you can’t even look at me anymore. When was the last time that you hugged me? Kissed my forehead when I needed it?”

“I’m not ignoring you on purpose, man.” Chan rubbed a hand over his face, trying to lie his way out of this conversation. 

“Bullshit,” you spat through clenched teeth. “You are replacing me with her and you know it.”

“Oh my God. Is that what this is about?” Chan’s voice rose with disbelief. “You’re mad that I am talking to Sol?”

“Everything that you used to do with me — I see you doing them with her,” you hiccuped, growing smaller under Chan’s intense glare. 

“Don’t make this something that it isn’t. Nothing that I used to do with you even begins to compare to how I treat her.” This argument pierced right through the anger protecting your feelings. 

“So now you aren’t even going to deny it? You’re treating me differently because of her,” your voice shook as your breathing grew short. 

“She is different,” Chan grimaced, pointing a finger toward you. “You need to lose whatever this shit is, man. I’m not putting up with it. Quit being so fucking weird.” 

With that, Chan abruptly stood up and stormed out of the dorm. You aren’t sure where he was headed, but you had an inkling. 

As you were left in silence, all that you could do is focus on his last words to you. 

“Quit being so fucking weird.”

What was weird? Calling him out? Falling for him? Assuming that he felt the same way?

The next morning, Chan called for a meeting before everyone’s solo-schedules. You were slightly terrified that this was the end of idol-life for you. Surely Chan had reported you to management and he was about to announce your departure from the group. 

Unfortunately, you would have rather heard that than what Chan actually had to announce. 

Walking into the studio, all of the other members were already present. There were nine people in the room all staring at you; your eight members and her — Sol. 

Chan didn’t wait long to announce that he and Sol had decided to make their relationship official. He clarified that he wasn’t hiding anything from anyone and that this step in their relationship was fresh. They had only started dating the night before — presumably after he stormed out of the dorms. His whole reasoning was that he didn’t want to hide any secrets from the boys, but you knew better than that. While Sol smiled around the room, Chan’s eyes were solely locked on you. Chan only wanted to announce this to the group to get under your skin. Boy, did it work. 

Other than Chan’s eyes burning a hole in your head, you felt another person glancing your way. Minho, somehow managing to read your mind, gave you a sad look as he noticed the devastation in your eyes. After everyone else had left, Minho was the one to stay behind and comfort you as you cried yet again. 

You aren’t sure how Minho connected the dots, but you were glad that he did. Many times after Chan and Sol became official, the minsung dorm became your place of solace. Han never questioned why his hyung was suddenly sleeping on their couch rather than his own bed. For that, you were grateful.

Over the next few weeks, Chan’s presence in your shared dorm slowly increased. It’s not that he wanted to be home more — he clearly was just trying to get under your skin. Between nonstop giggles and moans, you were losing your sanity. 

Another tell-tale sign of his intentions was revealed once you started leaving the moment that you heard him come home. After a while, you knew when to leave before Chan even began his shenanigans. The first time that you decided to storm out at the sight of Sol, you noticed Chan’s brow twitch in the slightest; it was miniscule, but undeniable. It affected him that you were leaving, whether he would admit that or not. 

Eventually, you got in the habit of going straight to the minsung dorm rather than your own. You had enough of your belongings there that it practically felt like your own home. The love and warmth that flowed from their dorm was something that had been completely drained from your own living space.

Minho and Jisung never made you feel guilty for taking up any space. Regardless of how many nights you spent sprawled out on their couch, they always greeted you with a gentle smile the following morning.

The only thing that made you feel any sense of guilt was Jeongin. You felt bad for leaving the younger boy in the dorm to deal with Chan’s overbearing love life. On many nights, he’d send you pleading texts that simultaneously brought bubbling laughter and heartache.

⭑ Ayen ⭑

Hyuuuuuuung

Why did you abandon me :(

How am I supposed to play overwatch when all that I can hear is performative moaning

Save me

I think that I might feed Channie hyung the hair that I keep finding in the sink if he doesn’t quiet down

“That’s gross,” is all that you could reply with a faint smile adorning your saddened face.

Chan didn’t reach out. At least, he didn’t at first.

Deep down, a part of you knew that he had grown to love mind games with you. Yet, it was obvious that Chan was too afraid to actually confront you with anything. Since the first and last confrontation, it’s been nothing but exploitation from the sidelines. The more hurt you seemed, the happier the relationship was.

Maybe this is why you were surprised when Chan texted you late one night.

It was a weekend, everyone was supposed to take an off-day, but you know how Chan is. Much to your surprise, he actually took the day to rest.

Well — maybe rest isn’t the best term to use.

Chan used this Saturday to drink away the stress constantly carried with him. It started out as one glass of wine with Sol to celebrate all of his recent hard work, but one glass quickly turned into two. Two glasses quickly turned into three. By the end of the night, Chan had downed a whole bottle (and a half) of red wine all by himself.

It had to have been the liquid courage that motivated him to message you.

Chan ♡

Y/N..

Inwish you were hwre

Sol made samgyetang

Your favorite

When you didn’t reply, Chan carried on.

You don’t even use your own bed anymorr

You’ve been spending too much time with Minho and Jisung

I sont like it

You simply replied with: “I am not your boyfriend.” Your message wasn’t read until the following morning. Unexpectedly, your message was left on open.

Filming content started feeling like a chore rather than your job. The weekend-long skzcode that the company had planned for the summer was something that you had been dreading since the initial debriefing. The plan was to have you all film a survivalist-style show while you camped in the great outdoors. In reality, the nine of you would be staying in a cushy cabin right outside of view of the cameras.

The cabin only had four rooms for ten people — the additional person being none other than Chan’s other half, because God forbid they are apart for three days. Two of the rooms had multiple beds, similar to a primary school sleepover. The other two rooms had solo beds, one of which was already guaranteed to sleep Chan and Sol. With that being said, sticks were drawn to see who else would luck out with the other solo bed.

Much to your disdain, Minho and Jisung were paired together with Hyunjin and Jeongin. However, with the rest of the drawings, you somehow managed to luck out with the solo room. Based on your expectations for this schedule, this may have been the best outcome anyway.

The recording itself wasn’t the worst experience. You had easily learned to plaster a smile on your face and stick closer to any member other than Chan. Sure, the company may give you shit for your actions later down the road once they read the fans’ reactions, but you preferred your own sanity for the time being.

Once the night had fallen and the filming crew had gone to their respective hotels, that is when the dread really started to kick in. It was too late in the night to escape outdoors, but also way too early to excuse yourself to sleep. Instead, you settled next to Minho and pretended to actively listen to whatever story Hyunjin was retelling for the hundredth time.

In reality, all that you could focus on was her — Sol.

This was the first time you truly sat down and experienced her personality outside of work. Any other time, you ran from her unless she wielded her makeup brushes. However, sitting here and subtly watching her just exist, your guilt began to gnaw in a different manner.

Every time that Hyunjin made some dramatic gesture during his story, Sol lit up and burst into laughter. With each bump in the story, the expressions on her face were nearly cartoonish. She was so authentically herself, and you understood what Chan saw in her.

Based on the way that Sol interacted with the rest of your members, you couldn’t hold any resentment towards her. How can you hate someone who reminds you so much of yourself? Sol is practically everything you are — but Sol is a girl, something you’ll never be.

Overthinking on whether it is your fault or Chan’s that your initial bias formed, you hadn’t even realized that everyone had moved on to closing out the night. It wasn’t until Minho nudged your shoulder that you were snapped back into reality.

“I’m going to grab a few drinks. What are you feeling?” Minho mumbled just loud enough for you to hear. You didn’t miss Chan’s lingering glare as you leaned closer.

“Whatever you’re having. I definitely need it about now.” The two of you shared a sad, knowing smile before Minho retreated.

“You want anything, baby?” Chan spoke loud enough for you to hear, but he was speaking directly to his girlfriend. Hearing the pet name shattered your spirits a little more, knowing that’s what he used to call you before all of this mess.

When Sol smiled and kissed his cheek, Chan stood and followed where Minho and the others had gone. All that was left was you and her.

“You doing okay?” she asked with a gentle, sweet voice.

When you looked up, there was genuine concern etched on her face. You wondered what her perspective of this whole situation is.

“Oh, yeah. I’m just tired,” you shrugged off, avoiding this conversation to the best of your ability.

“Oh, okay. Chan’s just been pretty worried about you,” Sol tried to comfort you, but sadly only made things worse. You still respected her attempt at kindness, nonetheless.

The awkward silence didn’t last long as the sound of Han’s bellowing laugh and clinking glass filled the living area. Slowly, everyone filled the room once more, and then the night truly began.

By the end of the night, one too many people had drunk themselves sick or asleep. Minho barely managed to convince Jisung to head upstairs to sleep for the night.

While you were rather drunk, you weren’t nauseated or sleepy enough to justify leaving the crevice of the couch where you had spent the last few hours. Instead, you watched as people disappeared one by one.

Eventually, all that remained were you and your least favorite couple. Sol was already knocked out, snoring on her boyfriend’s shoulder. The only conscious people in the room were you and Chan — if you could even call yourselves conscious.

Getting flashbacks of your last drunken encounter with Chan, you made the smart decision to head to your room, even if you weren’t all that tired. Knowing that you had more recording to do tomorrow evening, it was best that the arguing was saved for another time.

Thankfully, Chan seemed to be on the same page as you. The second that you started your stumbling journey across the room, Chan followed suit, scooping Sol into his arms effortlessly. You’d always glorified his strength.

Shaking your head, ignoring the slight tinge of blush on your cheeks, you made your way into your room. You didn’t have time for thoughts like that.

The only thing swimming in your mind was Chan. As much as you despised the way he treated you, sometimes you still miss the way things were before his relationship. The physical touch, the kisses — all things that he now gives to someone else.

You felt shameful as you thought back to the way his muscles flexed when he lifted Sol onto his shoulder. You had always wondered what it would be like for him to manhandle you in that same way.

Rubbing your hand over your face, you decided that forcing yourself to sleep might cure the thoughts running through your brain. You couldn’t bother to properly prepare for bed, so you instead opted to simply discard of the clothes you had on. You were sleeping by yourself anyway.

Just as you were throwing your shirt to the corner of the room, you heard a rustling sound outside your door — someone was messing with the door knob. Before you could ask who was there, Chan drunkenly stumbled into the room, finally getting the door to cooperate.

“Chan? What are you doing?” you asked, brows knit with confusion. The door clicked behind him.

“I miss you,” he pouted, face completely flushed. Whether that is from the alcohol he consumed or something entirely different, you couldn’t be sure.

“I- You don’t get to just say that, Chan,” you sighed, regardless of how your chest tightened at his words. It was hard to stand your ground when you were intoxicated and he was already on your mind. Looking into his eyes easily reminds you of why you’re upset with him in the first place. Your mind is battling a war between longing and anger.

“It’s true, Y/N. I miss you so much, baby,” he slurred. You immediately froze at his words.

“Baby?” you barely whispered.

“You spend too much time with Minho and Hannie now,” Chan accused, his brows furrowed as he circled back to his last drunken text messages that he had sent weeks ago.

“And you spend too much time with Sol,” you scoffed, the alcohol giving you courage that you didn’t even know existed.

“But I wanna spend time with you, Y/N. You’re my favorite.” There were practically tears in Chan’s eyes as he mumbled his words. Regardless of the drunken disconnect, you heard every single word loud and clear.

“Oh yeah? How would Sol feel about that?” you asked, both out of curiosity and guilt.

“Will you quit saying her name?” Chan whined, his shoulders slumping further with each passing second.

“Why? She’s your girlfriend, no?” God how you wished he’d say no. In a sober state of mind, you would have easily kicked him out of your room and back to his girlfriend. However, a mixture of the alcohol and his pleading eyes is making you feed into the chase.

“Can you just — stop talking for a sec,” Chan hiccuped in between his words, trying to compose himself. Slowly, he took gentle but confident steps toward you, steadily closing the gap between you two.

“Why’s that?” you murmured, your breathing starting to go unsteady the closer Chan got.

“I just wanna think about you,” he pouted right before you. “Nothing else,” he whispered, shamelessly raking his eyes over your half-naked body. His fingers reached out, slightly grazing where your hips peaked out of your jeans.

“Just me?” You felt childish asking for validation, but this is all that you had dreamed about for months. You had to make sure that you weren’t simply hearing things.

“Just you,” Chan whispered with a husky voice. His eyes darted back to your face before flickering to your slightly glossy lips. He ran his thumb across your lip, simply fascinated with how you looked this close.

Before you could overthink it, Chan took initiative himself. Digging the pads of his fingers deeper into your side, his other hand swiftly moved to cup your jaw. Pulling you closer, Chan crashed his lips into yours with hungry desire. You took a sharp breath in, not entirely expecting Chan to take control like this. It only took a moment before you melted into his embrace and started to kiss him back with an equal amount of vigor.

“I’ve thought about this for so long. Thought about you,” Chan admitted when he pulled away to catch his breath.

“Yeah?” you replied, obvious yearning laced in your voice. “Show me what you’ve thought about?” you tested him.

Chan simply smirked before crashing his lips into yours once more. His hand that rested on your waist slowly crept around and landed right on the swell of your ass. His fingers needed your flesh through your jeans, matching the pace of his tongue gliding against your own.

Wordlessly, Chan walked the two of you back toward your bed. Once your knees hit the mattress, you became slightly unbalanced and immediately fell to the bed. Through his intoxicated lens, Chan swore he had never seen anything more beautiful than you giggling beneath him, lips even shinier than before.

Scooting you further up the bed, Chan crawled on top of you, picking up right where he left off. When the distance between your bodies closed further, you began to feel an unmistakable podding against your thigh — Chan was incredibly hard. This realization made you whine, grasping the edges of his white shirt.

“Off, please,” you pleaded, tugging at the cotton material. Chan nodded, seemingly as eager as you. When he lifted his shirt over his head, you let out a shameful whimper at the sight of his body.

You’d seen Chan shirtless a countless amount of times. However, nothing compared to how he looked now: desperate and glistening with sweat as he caged in your body.

“You like what you see?” he cockily replied to your whimpers, using this as an opportunity to slowly grind against your leg. You know for a fact that your own erection was easily seen through your jeans — Chan was getting off on teasing you.

“Channie, please,” you whined, grinding the air as you searched for some sense of relief.

“Easy, baby.” A puff of air escaped his lips as he tried not to laugh at your blatant neediness. Nonetheless, he gave you exactly what you wanted — truth be told, it was mainly because he wanted it more.

Teasingly slow, Chan worked his way around your jeans, fingers brushing your erection as he inched toward the button and zipper. With one hand dangerously close to your crotch, he expertly undone your jeans with his free hand. When you lifted your hips once more, Chan wasted no time freeing you from your constraints of denim.

The moment the cool air kissed your bare skin, you gasped. Suddenly aware of how exposed you were, slight insecurities started to creep in your mind. You and Chan had seen plenty of one another, but you spread out, flushed, leaking at the sight of him? This is uncharted territory.

Any lingering doubt faded when you saw the hazy look in Chan’s eyes. Pupils completely blown out, he was entranced by every inch of your body. Though he looked uncertain about what to do next, it was for sure that he wanted this.

“Is this for me?” Chan quipped, wrapping his hand around your cock. You rapidly nodded as Chan slowly pumped your length.

“Want you to fuck me, Channie,” you cried, already needing more than just his hand.

“Yeah? Think you can ride me, baby?” Chan asked, thought it seemed like the fantasy was entirely his.

Chan’s free hand slid between your legs, inching closer to your hole. Completely filthy and unexpected from the man you know, Chan let a long string of saliva fall from his lips, slowly falling to the fingers that inched closer to your entrance. With precise thought, Chan began to tease your ass with his slightly lubed fingers.

“I wanna see you on top of me,” Chan groaned as he plunged the first finger into your tight hole.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as you imagined how full you’d feel on top of him. Before you could respond, one finger became two — Chan was getting impatient. There was a slight sting, but you couldn’t care less since Chan was the one pleasing you.

When Chan finally felt like you were ready enough to carry on, he retracted his hands from you completely. You whined, now clenching around nothing.

“Patient, baby,” Chan teased as if he wasn’t rapidly fighting to get his jeans off.

Your eyes widened when Chan’s erection sprung free from his jeans. He was big — much bigger than you had imagined. You’d seen him half hard through his sweats during practice before, but nothing could’ve prepared you for reality.

Before you could ogle at his dick for too long, Chan swiftly grabbed your hips and tossed you further in bed. It didn’t take long for him to join you, lying against the headboard, legs spread to leave nothing to the imagination.

As much as you would love to live out all of your fantasies with Chan tonight, the need to have him inside of you outweighed any other desires. Unfortunately, skipping foreplay was a must.

Chan spit on his hand before stroking himself a few times. His eyes encouraged you to lean up and straddle him.

“If it’s too much, let me know,” Chan whispered, kissing you way too gently for whatever this was.

You winced in fear even before his tip pressed against your ass. You knew to expect pain due to the lack of preparation and lube. Regardless, lust overpowered then need to slow down.

When you finally lined yourself up directly above Chan’s dick, he couldn’t help but slightly thrust up. You cried out as Chan slowly inched inside of you. The pain was blinding, but you knew that it would be worth it. By the time you had sunk completely onto his cock, your brain was scrambled. The stretch and fullness was something like you’d never experienced before.

Eventually, once you felt well-adjusted, you began lifting your hips, slowly making a rhythm as you began to ride Chan’s dick.

“Baby, you feel — fuck — so good,” Chan panted once you had found a good pace. At his praise, you completely zoned out.

During the intense pleasure coursing through your body, your mind was running a million miles an hour. All that you could think about were the many nights where this was all that you dreamed about. The idea of actually having Chan like this was unrealistic in your mind. Yet, here you were, making him feel like heaven on earth.

With your thoughts running rampant, the all so familiar coil in your belly began to grow embarrassingly fast. Absorbed in your fascination with Chan, you leaned forward and began leaving wet, open mouth kisses along his jawline, traveling down his neck. Your teeth nipped at his soft skin as you felt yourself growing closer and closer.

“Chan — I —“ you panted.

“It’s okay, baby. Me too,” he admitted breathlessly.

Pulling back to see his glazed over eyes was enough to push you over the edge. Your hand flew to cover your mouth to conceal any loud moans that inevitably escaped as your orgasm wrecked your body. Hot spurts of cum leaked from your tip, painting Chan’s chiseled chest.

The sight of your release covering his own body was enough to trigger Chan’s orgasm as well. Shakily, Chan pumped himself into you one last time as he emptied his seed into you.

Totally spent, your body collapsed on top of his. Gently, Chan lifted you off of his softening member. He sat you back down, still straddling his hips as you laid on his chest.

Just as you had felt content enough to doze off into much needed rest, Chan began to whisper in your ear.

“I wish that Sol was you, Y/N,” Chan admitted with a hazy voice.

With these words, a small moment of clarity finally peaked through your intoxicated trance. Guilt settled in your stomach before sleep could take hold.

The morning welcomed you with the smell of sweat and sticky skin. You were confused for a moment until you recognized the weight of another man in your bed. You didn’t even have to fully look up to remember that Chan had ended up in your bed the night before.

Regardless of the pounding headache you had, your mind was clear enough to instantly fill with regret. You slept with a taken man — disgust for both yourself and Chan was overpowering any other thought in your mind.

Simultaneously frantic but carefully, you eased your way out of bed and stumbled toward your suitcase. The two of you had slept completely naked, curled up beside one another all night long. With shaky hands, you opened your suitcase and grabbed the first pair of sweats you could find.

After throwing on your clothes, you realized that you couldn’t stay in the room for any longer; each slight glance at Chan made you sick with panic. Not knowing whether you needed water or air, you dizzily walked the stairs that led to the common area.

Your frazzled brain calmed for a second once you reached the bottom of the stairs. Han was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone. It was uncharacteristically early for him to be awake.

“Morning, Y/N,” Han’s soft voice cut through the air.

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out.

“Everything okay?” Tears started to sting your eyes at Han’s question. “Oh, hyung. Come here,” Han pouted, patting the empty cushion next to where he sat.

The moment that you sat next to him, Jisung threw an arm behind your back — a reassuring reminder that you are surrounded with support. When you didn’t speak, Han took a good look at figure, seeming like he was trying to read your mind.

“You slept with him. Didn’t you?” You froze at his words.

“How did you—“ your jaw was slack with shock.

“I went to pee last night and I saw Chan walking into your room. Based on that and the creaking that followed, I’m not stupid,” Jisung explained, immediately making you even more embarrassed.

“I am so sorry,” you choked, ears red at the thought of your close friend hearing you fuck your leader.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m sure that you’ve heard worse from Minho and I,” Han laughed, causing your shoulders to relax in the slightest.

“I just-“ you paused, a slight tremble in your voice, “I can’t believe I did that. I feel so gross.”

Jisung immediately wiped away the tears that you didn’t even know were falling.

“What about it makes you feel gross?” he inquired, his eyes showing his genuine intent to listen.

“I slept with a man in a relationship. I’m a home-wrecker,” you took a sharp breath in, trying your best to hold back the tears.

“So you aren’t grossed out at the fact that it was Chan that you slept with? Just the fact that he has a girlfriend?” Han pressed further. This was a question that you hadn’t yet reflected on yourself.

“I- I don’t think so,” you pondered as you processed this idea for the first time yourself. “I mean, I’ve wanted…that for so long. I never would have wanted this to happen under these circumstances, though.”

“And you still feel something for him? After all of this?” Han’s voice was nonjudgmental.

“Yeah. Without a doubt,” you finally confessed after a moment of silence. As much as you hated yourself for still wanting Chan all for yourself, you knew better than to lie to Han. Jisung was one of the few helping you throughout this whole situation.

“Can I give you my opinion?” Jisung carefully asked. You simply nodded in response.

“I’ve seen this before: what Chan is going through,” he elaborated. “I saw this same thing happen with myself when I first met Minho.

“I didn’t want to admit that there was a possibility that I could be interested in men. I knew that I felt different around Min, but I didn’t want to admit that to myself.

“It took me so long to finally be content with the idea of being bi — being myself. Y/N,” Jisung paused to make sure that the two of you locked eyes, “I’m not sure if or when Chan will get to that point.

“Coming from experience, it’s hard,” he sighed in reflection. “But, Jesus…Chan is so stubborn sometimes. He loves to be in control so much, and I think he’s scared that his emotions are one thing that he can’t control.

“All that I’m saying is: I don’t want you to keep hurting yourself chasing someone who may never be able to love you the way that you deserve. Because you deserve so much more than what Chan is willing to give right now.” Han slid his arm down just enough to squeeze your shoulder in reassurance. His touch grounded you, made you realize that he — unfortunately — had a point.

Before you could respond, muffled sounds of screaming were heard from upstairs. You couldn’t make out everything perfectly, but it was clear that Sol was yelling at Chan. “You’re fucking kidding me,” is the one phrase that you’re sure you heard at least three times throughout the shouting match.

You somehow managed to tense up further at the sound of a slamming door. Upstairs, Sol had stormed out of the bedroom, angrily preparing to leave with her bag in tow.

When she did storm down the stairs, you barely glanced at her out of the corner of your eye. The sight of her absolutely broken destroyed you. Her face was still puffy with sleep, only now it was also ruined with tear stains. An innocent bystander in your story, a victim in her own — Sol looked heartbroken.

The front door was shut with force as Sol left with her belongings. The moment she left, you crumbled. The tears that you fought so hard to hold back poured out of you uncontrollably. Without a second thought, Han pulled you closer, holding you through your sobs. All of the pain and guilt from the last few months was all crashing in on you at once.

Upstairs, Chan was frantic. He regrettably was found in your bed, covered in hickeys just moments ago. He had barely had a chance to recall what happened the night before when Sol began to tear him to shreds. With Sol gone, Chan now had to decide if he would confront you or his potential ex-girlfriend.

You trembled in Han’s arms, scooting closer as if to hide away from all of your problems. Unfortunately for you, your biggest problem came walking down the stairs moments after Sol left.

The moment that Chan stepped downstairs, his eyes locked onto you. The sight of you being cradled by his younger member caused an unsettling sensation in his chest. After last night you really ran to Han?

Conflicted with anger and sadness, Chan too stormed out of the cabin. It was clear that he made his choice between you and Sol.

The deafening slam of the door echoed through the home, only accompanied by your loud sniffles. Undeniably, everyone else was awake by now.

In a home filled with people you love, you had never felt more alone. With Chan and Sol out the door, the hole in your heart began to swell further and further. You never expected any of this to get this bad.

At the end of the day, you are the one left to pick up the pieces. Han’s advice sat heavy on your shoulders as the rest of the world began to rise and carry on. Chan made his choice, and now it was time to make yours.

The smell alone made your senses dizzy— grilled seafood, sweet pastries, sugar, spices, smoky skewers, fresh fruits, perfume lingering from people brushing past, even traces of different hybrids’ scents blending into the crowd.

It smelled…

Happy.

That was the only way to describe it.

Happy.

Your ears twitched constantly trying to process everything at once while your eyes widened more and more with every step. Your eyes sparkled immediately while looking around at everything.

“Woah…”

Your voice came out breathless.

“There’s so many people here.”

Families wandered laughing together, children ran around carrying glowing toys, couples shared drinks beneath hanging lights, and groups of friends crowded around food stalls loudly debating what to buy.

Summer buzzed beautifully around all of you.

It genuinely felt like the season itself had come alive.

Chan looked around carefully, leader instincts immediately activating seeing the growing crowd.

“Okay listen,” Chan spoke firmly enough to gather everyone’s attention. “Nobody wanders off alone.”

Everyone looked toward him.

“Buddy system.”

Groans immediately erupted.

“Seriously?”

“Yes seriously,” Chan answered firmly. “No wandering off alone, and that’s final.”

“You sound like a kindergarten teacher,” Hyunjin muttered.

Chan ignored him completely.

“At least in pairs. Got it?”

Eventually smaller groups naturally formed while everyone wandered through the bazaar together. You stayed close beside the members while strolling deeper into the bazaar, your attention darting everywhere at once.

Street food vendors shouted excitedly trying to attract customers while steam rose beautifully into the evening air. Everywhere you looked felt exciting. And almost instantly A warm hand slipped into yours. You looked sideways. Felix grinned brightly at you before intertwining your fingers together naturally

Warm.

Comfortable.

Natural.

“Come on, Sunny!”

You blinked at him. Your heart melted instantly.

Because Felix calling you “Sunny” always sounded impossibly affectionate coming from him. Even though he himself was the brightest sunshine in your life.

“Sunny? You’re literally the sunshine here.”

Felix grinned brightly.

“But you are my sunshine, Y/n-ah !.”

Before you could argue further, he immediately tugged you forward through the crowd excitedly.

You squealed loudly while nearly stumbling after him.

“Lix— wait!”

Your laughter rang through the busy walkway while your tail bounced happily behind you. Even the members behind you both could hear your excitement spilling out uncontrollably.

And honestly—

Behind you, the other members watched with fond amusement.

“She’s literally skipping,” Minho observed. And you were.

It had been a long time since they’d seen you this carefree. You practically skipped between stalls while pointing at different foods and decorations excitedly. Your tail swished wildly behind you while you practically hopped beside Felix, excitement overflowing so obviously you couldn’t hide it even if you tried.

Felix only laughed harder hearing your happy squeals. He watched you more than the bazaar itself.

Completely soft.

Because moments like this when you forgot to overthink.

Forgot to shrink yourself.

Forgot to worry—

Were precious.

“You’re cute.”

“You’re dragging me!”

“You love it.”

…You did.

Because Felix always knew how to make the world feel lighter.

Safer.

Fun.

After wandering around for a while scouting almost every stall possible, Felix finally asked, “So?” He squeezed your hand lightly.

“What do you wanna eat?” You looked around immediately.

“The sweet stalls look really good…”

Felix narrowed his eyes playfully.

“Absolutely not. Real food first.”

You pouted dramatically, making Felix pinched your cheek lightly.

Then your ears perked suddenly.

“Oh!”

You pointed excitedly toward a nearby stall.

“That gukbap place smells amazing.”

“You smelled it?”

You nodded proudly.

The rich savory aroma drifted strongly through the air even from several stalls away.

“And mandu too! It smelled rich,” you explained excitedly. “Like beef broth and garlic and green onion and—”

Felix laughed softly.

“Okay then. Lead the way then”

Still holding your hand tightly, he followed wherever you led him.

The two of you somehow completely lost control afterward.

Eventually you stopped excitedly near a cozy food stall where steaming broth filled the air deliciously.

“There!”

Felix looked up toward the sign.

Sure enough—

Gukbap.

And fresh mandu being folded nearby.

The warm savory smell immediately wrapped around both of you.

“Oh wow…”

“See?!” you chirped proudly.

Felix laughed softly.

“You win.”

The older woman running the stall greeted both of you warmly while leading you toward a small outdoor table nearby.

The lights overhead glowed softly above the two of you while distant festival sounds buzzed around the night air.

Felix pulled your chair out for you automatically before sitting across from you.

“You’re very gentleman today,” you teased.

“I’m always gentleman.”

You burst into laughter immediately. And Felix found himself staring again. Because your laugh tonight sounded so free. So genuine. It made something emotional settle warmly inside him.

The food arrived quickly afterward.

Steaming hot gukbap filled with rich broth and tender meat.

Fresh mandu with crispy bottoms and juicy filling.

The smell alone nearly made you melt.

“Oh my god…”

Felix laughed watching your expression.

“You’re reacting like you found heaven.”

“Maybe I did.”

Your ears twitched happily while your tail swayed beneath the table.

Felix physically softened seeing it.

And honestly—

Watching you enjoy simple things like this always made the members feel strangely emotional.

Because you never asked for much.

Just warmth.

Attention.

Love.

Time together.

Things they hadn’t realized you’d slowly been starving for before.

What started as gukbap and mandu turned into far too many plastic bags filled with food.

Gimbap.

Chicken skewers.

Hotteok dripping with syrup.

Bungeoppang stuffed with sweet red bean.

Cream-filled donuts.

Drinks.

Desserts.

Snacks.

Felix stared at the growing pile.

“…I think we got too much.”

You looked at the bags.

Then immediately burst into laughter. “A little bit.”

Eventually Felix got a text saying the others had found a table nearby. So, both of you hurried back carrying enough food to feed an army. The second Han saw the amounts of bags his jaw dropped.

“WHAT happened?!”

You laughed sheepishly.

“We wanted to share with everyone…”

“Did you buy the entire market?”

“Maybe.”

The long outdoor table quickly filled with food afterward.

Steam rising warmly into the cool evening air.

On one side stretched the glowing bazaar. On the other the beach glittered beneath lights and moonlit waves. And surrounded by laughter, warmth, food, and the people you loved most—

This vacation truly felt healing.

Everyone ate noisily while talking over each other. Felix stayed pressed close beside you the entire time while happily feeding you bites from different desserts he wanted you to try.

“You need to taste this.”

“Lix, I’m still chewing—”

“Open.”

Your cheeks were puffed up with food. Before you could react, Felix immediately pointed dramatically.

“Hey Jisung-ah.”

Han looked up.

“Hm?”

“You guys look exactly the same.”

Silence.

You and Han slowly turned toward each other.

Both with puffed cheeks full of food.

Both blinking innocently.

Then suddenly—

You both nearly choked laughing.

Han bent forward coughing dramatically while you grabbed Felix’s shoulder wheezing. The entire table erupted immediately.

“Oh my god.”

“They actually do.”

“Copy paste.”

“You’re both squirrels.”

“I hate you guys,” Han laughed breathlessly.

Eventually the eating slowed down. You rubbed your stomach lightly with a small laugh. “I’m gonna regret gaining all this weight…”

The comment came too casually.

Thoughtlessly.

But Felix immediately frowned beside you.

“What do you mean?”

You blinked at his tone.

“It’s okay to enjoy good food like this.” His voice softened slightly afterward. “You should enjoy it.”

You smiled weakly. “Yeah… you’re right.”

Still your fingers unconsciously fiddled with your dress a little.

“I just…” you hesitated quietly, “I can’t help worrying a little lately.”

The others slowly looked toward you.

Jeongin tilted his head slightly.

“Why? You look really good though, Doll.”

Then softer, “Did you actually gain weight?”

You shook your head quickly.

“Not really…”

Your voice trailed off uncertainly.

“It’s just…”

The moment Jina’s name nearly left your mouth, your chest tightened strangely. But eventually you sighed quietly. “…Jina mentioned my tummy during the photoshoot.”

Silence immediately settled over the table.

The atmosphere shifted subtly.

Not heavily.

But enough.

Jeongin blinked.

“…Noona did?”

You nodded slowly.

“…Yeah.”

Nobody spoke for a second. Doesn’t really know how to respond to that. But Han quickly tried smoothing things over.

“Maybe she didn’t mean it badly.” His voice sounded careful. Like he desperately wanted to prevent the mood from sinking more.

“You know how people sometimes point things out without thinking.” He smiled awkwardly. “We seriously don’t mind though. Right guys?”

Everyone nodded almost immediately.

Han hurriedly continued before the silence could deepen again.

“Anyway! What should we do after this?”

He clapped once dramatically.

“More walking? Or call it a night?”

The others slowly followed his lead, conversation beginning again little by little.

But still—

You could only manage a small tight smile. Your fingers curled lightly against your lap.

Felix’s hand found yours beneath the table. Holding it gently. Squeezing softly.

You looked sideways.

He was already looking at you lovingly, with his famous sparkly bobba eyes.

His expression quiet.

Tender.

Understanding.

No teasing.

No joking.

Just reassurance.

Like he knew your thoughts were spiraling again.

Your chest fluttered at the kindness.

Slowly, you mouthed toward him—

“Thank you.”

Felix smiled softly in return.

And without letting go of your hand—

He intertwined your fingers together tighter.

The walk back to the staycation house felt slower than the rest of the day. Not because anyone was tired. But because nobody wanted the day to end yet.

The night air was cool against your skin, carrying the scent of salt and summer. Waves crashed softly somewhere beyond the darkness while the lights of the nearby town twinkled behind you. Every now and then, laughter broke out among the members as they retold moments from the day.

Han dramatically reenacted himself nearly choking from laughing at dinner. Felix insisted the story became funnier every time. Hyunjin somehow got distracted by the moon reflecting on the ocean and spent several minutes trying to photograph it. And you?

You simply walked in the middle of them.

Listening.

Smiling.

Feeling strangely warm even with the cool wind blowing from the shore.

By the time everyone returned to the house, the atmosphere had settled into something cozy.

Home-like.

Shoes were kicked off near the entrance.

Bags got tossed onto chairs.

Someone immediately claimed the largest section of the couch.

Someone else stole the softest blanket.

The living room quickly filled with life again.

Felix sprawled across one end of the sofa.

Han occupied an entire beanbag like a starfish.

Changbin sat cross-legged on the floor.

Minho somehow looked elegant even while half-slouching into a chair.

The fireplace wasn't lit, but the room still felt warm from the lingering energy everyone carried back with them. You ended up curled on the arm of the sofa while everyone continued talking.

The conversation naturally shifted toward tomorrow.

"Beach day." Felix immediately sat upright. His eyes sparkled. "A full beach day."

The others laughed.

Of course Felix had already planned the entire thing. He pointed around the room dramatically.

"Morning walk first."

Everyone nodded.

"Then beach games."

More nods. Perfect because the staycation site has its own private beach. A sharing private beach with the other occupants of the other houses. There're also some hut bars for several kinds of drinks, foods, and even snacks build by the site owner. And of course, delicious signature cocktails and mocktails. Still need to pay for the beverages and foods tho, but still perfect for a small get away like this.

"We stop around lunch."

"Picnic?" Han suggested.

"Picnic under the shades and trees outside!" Felix agreed immediately.

"Then after resting we go back around three or four."

"To avoid the sunburn," Seungmin added.

"Exactly."

The planning continued for almost twenty minutes.

Ideas bounced around constantly.

Volleyball.

Swimming.

Building sandcastles.

Taking photos.

Watching sunset.

Eventually you raised your hand slightly.

"I wanna collect seashells."

The room immediately paused.

You smiled sheepishly.

"And maybe paint them."

Hyunjin's head snapped toward you.

"WAIT."

His eyes widened.

"You brought art supplies?"

You nodded enthusiastically.

His entire face lit up.

"Oh my god."

He looked genuinely excited.

"We are absolutely doing that."

You laughed.

"I thought you would like it."

"I love it."

Meanwhile Jeongin pointed at you from across the room.

"You really prepared for everything."

You puffed your chest slightly.

"I try."

"No seriously."

He laughed.

"What would we do without you, Y/N-ah?"

The words were casual.

Probably not meant to linger.

But they did.

Because there was a time recently when you genuinely wondered if they still needed you at all.

The warmth in your chest felt bittersweet.

Before you could dwell on it, however—

Seungmin suddenly spoke.

"I can't wait to see the swimsuits."

Silence.

Then immediate realization crossed your face. "Oh."

Everyone looked toward you.

"Oh!"

You nearly jumped up.

"I forgot about those!"

The members looked confused as you suddenly scrambled off the couch and bolted upstairs.

"Where are you going?!"

Nobody got an answer.

Five minutes later—

You returned carrying a pile of swimsuits.

The room erupted immediately.

"What is that?"

"Wait."

"Are those all swimsuits?"

You dumped the pile dramatically onto the center rug.

The members stared.

Then stared harder.

Then looked at each other.

You crossed your arms.

"Help me choose!"

Immediately their attention sharpened. Like you had just announced a national emergency. "I only brought four options."

You pointed dramatically.

"Before anyone complains."

Several members immediately closed their mouths, refraining themselves from complaining. You narrowed your eyes. "Some of the swimsuits you guys bought..."

You paused.

"...are ridiculous."

Hyunjin coughed.

Chan suddenly found the ceiling fascinating.

Han refused eye contact.

You pointed accusingly to each member.

"Way too revealing."

The guilty members avoided your gaze.

"I am not confident enough for those."

Pouting immediately spread across multiple faces, which you concluded are the ones who bought the most revealing ones.

You ignored them.

"Anyway."

You gestured toward the remaining choices.

There's a simple dark blue long sleeve one piece with a hot pink flower on the bottom parts, a black halter with a crisscross design two piece, a soft pink swim dress with a flowy short skirt, and lastly a lighter blue halter swimsuit but with a boy short, a triangle shaped hole on the stomach area and white vertical stripes with a little bow in the middle for the top part.

The room immediately descended into chaos. Everyone gathered around the swimsuits and picking it up to look at it better.

Studying them.

Discussing them.

Arguing over them.

Like professional judges at some international competition.

You sat comfortably on the single sofa nearby. All of them looked too focused and thinking too hard like it's a non-negotiable life and death situation. They huddled around to discussed it together while you adjusted your position leaning on the arm rest staring amused at their dedication. You stifle a giggle with seeing how cute they are and their non-stop argue about which swim wear you should wear and why. You let out your phone to take picture of that very moment.

Watching.

Amused.

Because they were taking this so seriously.

"You don't understand."

Hyunjin pointed dramatically.

"The blue one matches her eyes."

"No it doesn't."

"It matches her vibe."

"That's not a thing."

"It absolutely is."

Meanwhile Han held up the pink swimdress.

"This one is cute."

"But the blue one is prettier."

"The black one is elegant."

"The black one is dangerous."

"What does that even mean?"

"You know exactly what it means."

You nearly choked holding back laughter. Because the sight was honestly adorable. Eight grown men huddled together debating your swimwear like their lives depended on it. Their brows furrowed.

Hands gesturing dramatically.

Voices overlapping.

The entire thing felt ridiculous.

And strangely precious.

Eventually a final verdict emerged. The black halter swimsuit and the blue sailor-inspired swimsuit. The members stood together proudly like they had completed a group project. Minho stepped forward first.

"We have decided."

You laughed.

"Okay?"

"The second one."

"And the fourth one."

You blinked.

"Really?"

Everyone nodded.

You looked down uncertainly.

"Are you sure it won't look weird on me?"

Immediately multiple voices answered.

"No."

"Absolutely not."

"Not even close."

"You'll look amazing."

Chan waved away your concerns entirely.

"You'll look beautiful."

The certainty in his voice made your ears warm.

Slowly you smiled.

"Okay."

A small pause.

Then—

"Okay, I trust you guys."

Immediately quiet celebrations broke out.

"YES."

"I told you."

"Victory."

The room dissolved into laughter once more.

For a little while, everything felt light.

A phone rang.

Felix glanced down.

His expression brightened.

"Oh."

The screen showed a video call. From Jina.

The atmosphere shifted almost imperceptibly.

Not enough for most people to notice. But your ears twitched immediately.

Felix answered and put up the phone so it can capture everyone. Her face appeared instantly.

Bright smile.

Perfect makeup.

Cheerful voice.

"Hey guys!"

Everyone greeted her warmly.

The members naturally gathered closer around Felix's phone.

"Hey Jina."

"How are you?"

"Miss us already?"

The members bombarded her with questions. She laughed.

"I was looking for you guys!" Her eyes widened dramatically. "I texted Chan this morning." She pointed accusingly. "No response all day."

Chan winced. "Oh. I’m so sorry, Jina-ah"

"You ignored me!"

"I forgot."

"You forgot me?"

Everyone laughed.

Then Jeongin casually answered.

"We're in Busan, noona. We’re having a little vacation!"

Jina blinked. Then pouted immediately. "What?" Her voice became playfully dramatic. "You guys didn't invite me?"

She pressed a hand against her chest.

"Wow. Damn. I thought I was special." The members laughed awkwardly.

And immediately—

Something unpleasant twisted inside your stomach. Irritation.

Because you could predict what will come. You answered before anyone else could. "It's Stray Kids members only." Your voice came calmly. "Sorry, not sorry."

The room went quiet.

Jina's eyes found you through the screen. Then narrowed almost invisibly. "Oh?" The smile stayed. But something colder flashed underneath. "And they brought ‘you’ along?"

The emphasis landed immediately. Like she’s mocking you.

You felt it.

Everyone did. The tension growing.

You leaned back slightly, scoffing softly.

"Of course."

Your smile mirrored hers. "Why wouldn't they?" you mocked her back.

A brief silence followed.

Then Jina looked back toward the members.

"Seriously though." She laughed lightly.

"Why bring her but not me?"

The atmosphere immediately became awkward with this growing competing like tension.

Your nose picked it up before anyone spoke.

Nervousness.

Discomfort. Awkwardness.

The members exchanged glances.

Changbin spoke first. Trying to smooth things over. "We're sorry, Jina-ah." He smiled apologetically. "It was really a last minute."

You rolled your eyes unconsciously, before you could stop yourself. "It's not a big deal."

The room quieted again.

You looked directly at the phone.

"She's just a staff." Pointing at her. The words came bluntly. "We agreed no staff. And it was final, end of discussion."

You continued.

"We didn't invite managers either." You shrugged.

"Though they know we're here, they are not upset or anything. It's not a big deal, really !"

The silence afterward felt heavier.

Jina's smile faded slightly.

Then quietly—

"You really hate me that much, huh?"

The question wasn't loud.

But it landed.

Immediately.

You blinked. "wha-?"

Because suddenly everyone was looking at you.

Chan frowned.

"Y/N-ah..."

His voice was gentle.

"You shouldn't say it like that."

Your stomach tightened.

You sighed.

Trying again.

"I'm not saying I hate her."

You rubbed your temple.

"I'm just saying..."

You searched for the words.

"If you're not invited somewhere..."

You hesitated.

"...sometimes it just means the event isn't meant for you."

You shrugged.

"That's normal. It’s common sense."

Still.

The atmosphere remained uncomfortable. Minho could see how you grew frustrated at that moment, he finally spoke. His voice soft. Kind. The same voice that always made your defenses crumble. "I understand what you mean, Jagi."

You immediately looked toward him. His expression stayed warm. "But I think it sounded a little harsh." The disappointment wasn't even there. Yet somehow—

That made it worse. Instant guilt flooded through you. Your ears lowered flatten back. "...Yeah."

You looked away. "I guess you're right."

Minho smiled softly.

Not angry.

Never angry.

Just understanding.

And somehow that made your chest ache. “I’m sorry about that…”

You sighed and stood slowly.

Dusting invisible lint from your clothes. Stretching slightly to avoid looking so awkward. "I'm gonna head in first." You didn't wait for their responds, you went on.

Nobody stopped you from going.

Maybe because they thought you wanted rest.

Maybe because nobody knew what to say.

Quietly climbing the stairs. Leaving the conversation behind. Your room felt colder somehow.

Quieter.

You sat on the edge of the bed.

Listening.

The walls weren't thick. You could still hear voices from downstairs faintly.

Laughter.

Conversation.

Jina's voice through the phone.

The members reassuring her. Comforting her. Explaining things. Telling her stories from today.

You knew they were only being kind. That was who they were.

Kind.

Patient.

Thoughtful.

The very things you loved most about them.

So why did it bother you so much?

Why did your chest feel tight?

Why did irritation still linger?

You stared at the floor.

Trying to untangle the feeling.

Trying to decide whether it was jealousy.

Frustration.

Resentment.

Or something else entirely.

Because maybe—

Just maybe—

You were tired of always being asked to understand.

Tired of always making room.

Tired of watching someone who constantly made you uncomfortable receive endless patience anyway.

The thought immediately made guilt follow afterward.

Because wasn't that unfair?

Wasn't that petty?

You sighed heavily.

Rubbing your face.

No matter how much you thought about it—

The feeling wouldn't disappear.

Maybe because feelings weren't always logical.

Sometimes they simply existed.

Whether they were justified or not.

Outside your bedroom window, the ocean continued singing softly beneath the night sky.

And downstairs—

The laughter continued.

While you sat alone trying to figure out why your heart suddenly felt heavy again.

Eventually you stood. Gathering your pajamas and toiletries.

The familiar routine helped.

Something simple.

Something predictable.

Something quiet.

The guest bathroom upstairs you occupied was quiet.

Too quiet.

The soft yellow light above the mirror illuminated the room warmly while the distant sound of laughter from downstairs echoed faintly through the house as you stood there brushing your teeth.

For a moment, you simply stared at your reflection.

The girl staring back looked normal.

Maybe a little tired.

Hair slightly messy.

Fluffy ears drooping relax and comfortably.

Nothing seemed wrong.

Yet ten minutes ago your thoughts had been spiraling. Too full.

About Jina.

The conversation downstairs.

The uncomfortable feeling in your chest.

The way Chan frowned.

The way Minho gently corrected you.

The way everyone immediately rushed to make sure Jina didn't feel left out.

Your mind had been loud.

Crowded.

Heavy.

But now...

Nothing.

Just emptiness.

You blinked slowly at yourself. The toothbrush moving absentmindedly.

Maybe you were tired.

Maybe you genuinely didn't want to waste this vacation being upset over someone who wasn't worth it.

The realization settled softly inside your chest. You spat into the sink before rinsing your mouth.

A long breath escaped you.

Cold water splashed against your face.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The chill immediately shocked your senses awake.

You lifted your head.

Water dripped from your chin.

And somehow...

You felt lighter.

Not perfect.

Not completely okay.

But lighter.

“Enough.”

Enough to enjoy tomorrow.

Enough to enjoy tonight.

Enough to stop thinking.

For now. “Not tonight.” You mumbled to yourself. So you dried your face, gathered your things, and headed back toward your room.

Your room welcomed you with comfortable silence.

You changed into your pajamas.

A loose oversized shirt and soft shorts.

The bed practically called your name. Then you practically face-planted onto the bed.

"Ahhh..."

A long sigh escaped you.

Your tail lazily swished against the blanket.

Yet instead of immediately sleeping, reaching over, you grabbed your phone. Soft music filled the room. The kind of songs that made your chest feel warm.

You grabbed your notebook from your bag and your favorite pen.

Then climbed onto the bed.

Cross-legged.

A recent habit.

A habit you had picked up from Seungmin months ago.

At first he'd suggested journaling after noticing how often you bottled things up.

You remembered the conversation clearly.

"Just try it."

"What's the point?"

"You learn things about yourself."

"That sounds scary."

"Exactly."

You had rolled your eyes back then.

But eventually tried it.

And now?

You loved it.

Writing things down somehow made everything easier to understand. Your feelings became less tangled. Your worries less overwhelming. Your gratitude easier to notice.

The notebook opened naturally to a fresh page.

You smiled softly.

Just you.

Your thoughts.

And honesty.

The pages slowly filled.

Things you were grateful for.

The brunch.

The ocean.

Felix feeding you desserts.

Hyunjin getting excited over painting shells.

Chan carrying you last night.

The shopping trip.

Jeongin helping you pose for pictures.

Changbin complimenting you at sunset.

Even the silly swimsuit debate.

As you wrote, the memories replayed.

One by one.

And despite everything...

You smiled.

Because today had been good.

Really good.

You didn't want one uncomfortable conversation to erase all of that.

The song playing through your speaker reached its chorus.

You hummed along absentmindedly. Tail lazily swaying behind you. The room felt peaceful.

Then—

Click.

Your door opened.

You looked up.

Seungmin stood there already dressed for bed. One shoulder leaning against the frame. Arms crossed.

Smirk displaying on his face.

"Still journaling?"

His voice carried amusement.

You closed the notebook.

"I'm done."

His smirk widened.

"Good."

Something immediately felt suspicious.

Your eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

Instead of answering—

He looked behind him.

"Hyung." He called to his behind, his grin became downright evil. "She's done."

Then a shadow appeared behind him.

Changbin.

The moment he stepped into view—

You sat up straighter and immediately every instinct in your body screamed danger.

Because for some reason—

He looked calm.

Too calm.

His expression was completely serious.

Dangerously focused.

He entered your room calmly.

Slowly.

The floor creaked beneath his weight.

You instinctively scooted backward on the bed.

"What?"

No answer.

Changbin continued approaching.

"What?"

Still nothing.

"Changbin."

His expression never changed.

You looked toward Seungmin.

The younger man was visibly holding back laughter.

"Why are you smiling like that?"

No answer.

Your survival instincts activated immediately.

"You two are planning something."

Seungmin finally cracked.

A laugh escaped him.

And somehow that felt worse.

"Guys?"

Changbin stopped directly in front of the bed.

Towering.

Massive.

You gulped. Because why was Seo Changbin suddenly so enormous?

"...Guys."

Without warning—

Two strong arms wrapped around your waist. A startled squeak escaped you. Then suddenly the world flipped upside down.

"AH—"

Before you could react—

You were thrown over Changbin's shoulder. Slung you over like a sack of potato. Like absolutely nothing. Like you weighed less than a pillow. "CHANGBIN!"

Your voice echoed through the room and outside.

Seungmin doubled over laughing.

"Oh my god."

You kicked your legs.

"This is kidnapping!"

"Nope."

Seungmin followed behind happily.

"It's more like a catnapping."

You gasped dramatically.

"SEUNGMIN."

The betrayal.

The absolute betrayal.

Changbin simply continued walking.

Unaffected.

Calm.

As if carrying an outraged cat hybrid over his shoulder happened every day.

Which honestly...

It kind of did.

By now they had reached the bottom of the stairs.

Your protests echoed throughout the house.

Immediately attracting attentions from the living room.

You squirmed a little trying to escape. Only for Changbin's large hand to lightly smack the back of your thigh.

"Behave."

"NO."

"You asked for this."

"I DIDN'T."

"You did."

"I LITERALLY DIDN'T."

The remaining members looked up from their card game.

Han blinked.

Felix blinked.

Hyunjin blinked.

Jeongin blinked.

Minho looked up from his cards.

Then casually looked back down.

Nobody appeared concerned.

Not a single person.

Only Chan laughing from the scene.

"HELP ME."

You reached dramatically toward them.

"PLEASE."

Han pointed at you.

"You look comfortable."

"I AM NOT."

"You kinda do."

"I'M BEING KIDNAPPED."

Minho placed a card down. "No." He answered calmly. "You're being collected."

The room erupted into laughter.

You gasped.

"Collected?!"

"Like a stray cat."

Felix nodded seriously.

"Exactly."

You felt betrayed by every single one of them. You crossed your arms and glared at them. Meanwhile Seungmin laughed so hard he nearly missed a step.

The three of you finally reached the bedroom.

Changbin and Seungmin's room.

The door opened.

Then closed behind you.

The room immediately felt warmer.

Changbin finally set you down onto the bed. More like tossed you to the bed. Making you bounced on it.

Seungmin plopped next to you on the edge of the bed. Changbin sat on his side of bed, leaning back on the headboard. You layed on the middle of them, your elbows supporting your upper body.

Seungmin smiled.

"You looked upset earlier." He poked your forehead.

Your expression softened slightly.

"...Oh."

Changbin crossed his arms.

"You disappeared."

"I was getting ready for bed."

"You were hiding."

"I wasn't."

"You were."

You opened your mouth.

Then closed it.

Because unfortunately—

He wasn't entirely wrong. You lay there flat looking at the ceiling.

Silence settled.

Gentle.

Comfortable.

The teasing faded.

Leaving behind something softer.

Seungmin hover on top of you, lightly flicking one of your ears.

"You know."

He spoke quietly.

"You don't always have to handle things by yourself."

You looked at his kind eyes.

Changbin's voice came next.

Lower.

Steadier.

"We notice more than you think."

The words settled deep inside your chest. So instead of answering you laughed sheepishly.

Weakly.

Trying to hide it.

Seungmin pressed his body on top of you, trapping you and nuzzling his head on the crook of your neck. You groaned from the sudden weight. His arm circling you. Changbin chuckled from seeing the scene in front of him. It’s so rare for Puppy Seungmin to emerge in front of others like this. “Puppy!” you giggled, hand immediately interlocked with his hair. Massaging his nape, while the other hand pulled him closer. Legs locking his waist.

That night you were trapped between both of them.

Outside, the ocean continued singing beyond the windows.

Inside, the house remained alive with distant voices and laughter from the members downstairs.

The first time you met Kim Seungmin, he was a nobody.

Not in a cruel way. Just… ordinary.

He was the lanky fifteen-year-old studying to be a prosecutor, the one with messy brown hair and an impossible habit of humming songs under his breath while his head was buried in his notes in the school library.

The first thing you ever said to him was, “You’re singing the wrong lyric.”

He’d looked up, startled and immediately frowned.

“No, I’m not.”

"You definitely are."

"I'm definitely not."

"You are."

He narrowed his eyes, and you just narrowed yours back.

Three minutes later, you were both laughing so hard that Seungmin had doubled over where he was sitting.

That was the beginning. There were no fireworks, nor was it love at first sight. You were just two teenagers who made each other laugh. It was the kind of beginning that never feels important until years later.

Years later, when everything has changed.

As the years passed, Seungmin's biggest dream narrowed down to simplicity.

He wanted to sing. He didn’t want to become famous, walk red carpets, or have millions of fans screaming his name. He just wanted to perform.

You spent countless afternoons listening to him talk about music, watching his eyes light up whenever he spoke about melodies and lyrics. Sometimes you'd sit beside him while he practised. Sometimes he'd drag you to tiny local performances where only twenty people showed up. Sometimes he'd even sing just for you.

Every single time, you thought the same thing: He's going to make it someday.

You just didn't realise what "making it" would cost.

At seventeen, Seungmin got his first real break. He participated in JYPE's 13th Open Audition, placing second. Not long after that, he joined JYP Entertainment.

Just months later, it was announced that he would debut in Stray Kids.

You remembered sitting on the swings at the park between both your houses, quietly. The stars were bright, and you could feel Christmas in the air. Neither of you wanted to acknowledge that things were about to change.

"You'll forget about me," you teased.

Seungmin immediately scoffed. "Impossible."

"You'll be famous."

"I won't."

"You will."

"I won't."

You smiled. "You totally will."

He reached over and squeezed your hand. "Then you'll just have to remind me who I am."

At the time, it sounded romantic. Now you knew that it was a promise neither of them understood.

When Seungmin debuted, you cried harder than he did. You stood backstage after one of his earliest performances, tears streaming down your face while he laughed at you.

"Why are you crying?"

"You did it."

He smiled, the kind of smile that made your heart stop.

"We did it."

Then he pulled you into a hug, and for a moment, nothing felt different. He was still Seungmin - still your Seungmin. The boy who stole your fries and sent you terrible memes at two in the morning, the boy who knew exactly how you liked your coffee. The boy who held your hand whenever you got anxious.

Nothing had changed.

At least, that's what you both told yourselves.

The first year was easy, but busy.

There were late-night phone calls, endless text messages, and video chats that lasted until one of you fell asleep. Whenever he came home, he spent every spare second with you. The distance was hard, but your love wasn't.

Then Stray Kids exploded.

One successful comeback became another. Then another, and another. Concerts became arenas and arenas became stadiums. Schedules became impossible. And somewhere along the way, your lives stopped moving at the same speed.

The first crack appeared during an interview. It was small, so small you almost ignored it.

You were curled up on your sofa watching him on television. The interviewer had smiled and asked him a simple question:

"Who is Kim Seungmin when he's not an idol?"

Seungmin had laughed. "Honestly? I don't really have a life outside work."

The audience laughed, and the interviewer, but you didn't. You just frowned at the screen, feeling an uneasy feeling build in the pit of your stomach, because he did have a life. He had his members, his family, his friends.

He had you.

Yet, somehow, all of that had disappeared from his answer as though Kim Seungmin the idol had swallowed Kim Seungmin the person.

When you mentioned it later, he brushed it off. "You know what I meant."

You nodded, but something about it stayed with you, and the doubt started creeping in.

The years passed, and Seungmin changed. Not all at once, and not dramatically, but little by little. The way water smooths stone.

His laugh became quieter, and his words became more careful. Every answer felt rehearsed, every reaction measured. Every action seemed filtered through an invisible question:

What will people think?

You understood why, you really did. Millions of eyes were constantly watching him. They were waiting for him to make a mistake, to say the wrong thing. Waiting for him to be human.

The world demanded perfection, and eventually, Seungmin started demanding it from himself, too.

One evening, months after his latest tour ended, the two of you sat across from each other at dinner.

It was a rare night alone with no schedules demanding time and energy. There were no cameras to perform for, or managers rushing about requiring his attention. It was just you and him, exactly the way it used to be. Or at least it should have been.

You were halfway through telling a story about work when you noticed he wasn't listening. His eyes were fixed on his phone. When you leaned over to look at his screen, you noticed he was scrolling through and reading comments on the last Stray Kids upload. He was checking the fans’ reactions and monitoring engagement.

Watching the endless flood of opinions from strangers instead of being here. With you.

"Seungmin."

Nothing.

"Seungmin."

He looked up. "What?"

You smiled sadly. "Exactly."

Guilt immediately flashed across his face. "I'm sorry."

You looked down at your plate, messing with the food that you no longer had the appetite for.

"You always say that."

The silence that followed felt heavier than any argument.

You convinced yourself that the worst part wasn't that he had changed, but that you knew why.

You knew what fame had done to him. You saw the exhaustion behind his smile, the anxiety hidden beneath his confidence, and the pressure sitting permanently on his shoulders. You knew he wasn't becoming distant because he wanted to. He was just surviving, and surviving meant adapting to protect himself.

Knowing that didn't stop your heart from breaking, though, because every day, you felt like you were losing the boy you fell in love with, and every day, he seemed a little harder to reach.

The argument happened on a rainy Thursday night.

It was the kind of rain that makes the city feel lonely. It had enveloped the city in a blanket of isolation, forcing people indoors and off the streets. By now, only a few people remain outside.

You were one of them.

You were standing outside the restaurant where he was meant to meet you. The one he’d made the reservations for himself. But that was before he'd cancelled dinner. Again. There was another schedule or meeting. Another apology. Another disappointment.

When he finally arrived home hours later, exhausted and breathless, you were already sitting in the dark, waiting. Seungmin immediately knew something was wrong. You hadn’t changed out of your wet clothes, and your hair was still sticking to the side of your face.

"Hey."

You didn't answer as he sat beside you.

"Talk to me."

For a long moment, you stared out the window. You knew what you needed to do – needed to say – but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

"I can't keep doing this."

His face fell. "Doing what?"

"Waiting." The word hung between you, heavy in its truth. "I've spent years understanding."

His eyes filled with guilt. "I know."

"I've defended you."

"I know."

"I've supported you."

"I know."

Your voice cracked. "Then why do I feel so alone?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

You knew then that he didn't have an answer.

You finally turned to look at him. Physically, he was the same Seungmin. His face hadn’t changed much over the years, only aged. He was still the same lean build as he was in his youth. What had really changed was on a deeper level. You saw the tired eyes, the carefully controlled expression.

The version of Seungmin that the world adored.

Suddenly, the question escaped before you could stop it. "What happened to you?"

Seungmin froze as if you'd physically hit him. It hadn’t come out as an accusation, but rather a plea. A plea to understand where it had all gone wrong.

The room fell silent around you both before he laughed brokenly.

"You think I don't ask myself that every day?"

Your breath caught. For the first time in years, the mask slipped, and there he was.

Not the idol, and not the celebrity.

Just Seungmin.

You could see how lost he was, see the humanity behind the cold mask of fame.

"I miss him too." His voice barely rose above a whisper. "The boy you fell in love with. I miss him all the time."

Tears filled his eyes, and you felt your heart shatter completely, because you realised something devastating.

You weren't the only one mourning who he used to be.

He was mourning him too.

The conversation didn't end that night.

After Seungmin admitted he missed the person he used to be, neither of you knew what to say. There wasn't a solution hiding somewhere between the two of you. There was no compromise or grand sacrifice. No choice that magically fixed everything. You loved him, and he loved you. That had never been the problem. The problem was that life kept moving, and neither of you could move with it.

The weeks that followed felt strange, almost… softer than before. It was like both of you were handling something fragile and trying not to break it. There were no more arguments, no accusations or frustrated tears.

In their place, however, were long silences. Conversations that trailed off before reaching the thing you were both thinking.

The thing neither of you wanted to say first.

One evening, Seungmin showed up at your apartment after practice. It was late, almost midnight. You opened the door and immediately knew he'd come straight from work. His hair was still styled, and there was makeup lingering around his eyes. Exhaustion sat heavily in his shoulders, yet somehow, he still smiled when he saw you.

The familiar one that made your heart ache now.

"Hey."

"Hey."

You stepped aside to let him in. Neither of you spoke much; he just curled up beside you on the sofa. You watched a movie that neither of you paid attention to. He was no doubt busy thinking about something from practise, and you were thinking about how handsome he looked, even this tired.

Eventually, his hand found yours. It was instinct, muscle memory from years of loving each other. For a while, everything felt normal – dangerously normal.

Then Seungmin spoke.

"So what do we do?"

The words were so quiet you almost missed them.

You stared at the television, avoiding his eyes. "I don't know."

He nodded slowly as if he'd expected that answer. He'd been asking himself the same question. Every day for months, maybe even years, without an answer.

"What if I try harder?" he asked.

Your throat tightened, and you looked at him. Even now, with barely enough energy left to watch a film, he was still fighting to make this work, still putting the pressure on his own shoulders.

Try harder.

As though he wasn't already giving every piece of himself away - to the company, the members, the fans, the public.

To everyone except himself.

"You already are."

His jaw tightened at your answer. "Then what if I make more time?"

"You can't."

"I can."

"You can't."

For the first time, frustration flashed across his face. "Why are you deciding that for me?"

"Because it's true."

The words came out sharper than intended. Seungmin immediately looked wounded, and you hated yourself for it. But you couldn't take it back. Not now.

"You have a tour next month. Then recordings. Then promotions. Then another comeback."

His eyes dropped to the floor as you checked them off on your fingers. He knew that you weren't guessing. You were describing reality - his reality. The life he'd worked years to build. It was the dream he'd sacrificed everything for; he just never expected you to be part of that sacrifice.

You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm not asking you to give that up."

His eyes lifted immediately, almost desperately. "Then tell me what you need."

The question shattered something inside you because he still didn't understand. You didn't need anything, not anymore. There wasn't something missing, and this wasn't a problem to solve. There wasn't a compromise waiting to be found.

There was simply reality.

It was a reality neither of you had created, yet both of you were trapped inside.

Your eyes stung. "That's the problem."

Seungmin's expression crumpled. "What is?"

You swallowed hard, then finally said the thing you'd been avoiding.

"We can't go back."

The room fell silent, and you felt his hand tighten around yours. Your voice trembled as you carried on.

"We can't go back to how things were before. Before the schedules and the tours. Before everyone knew your name."

His eyes filled with tears, but you had to say it. If you stopped now, you'd never would do.

"And we can't go forward."

The words cracked in the middle, the truth in them bringing you pain. You couldn't move forward together because nothing could change. At least, not in the ways that mattered. Seungmin wasn't choosing fame over you. He was living the dream he'd spent his entire life chasing. One he'd worked too hard to abandon. One he deserved.

And you would never ask him to give it up.

Never.

It was in the same way that he could never ask you to spend the rest of your life waiting for moments that became shorter every year. Waiting for him to come home, for a future neither of you could actually picture. He couldn’t ask you to wait for things to somehow become different, knowing that they wouldn't.

The silence stretched on, two hearts breaking in unison.

"So that's it?"

The sound of his whisper nearly broke you, and you forced yourself to look away. Seeing him cry had always made it difficult to breathe, and seeing him cry now might very well suffocate you.

"I don't know."

It wasn't the answer he wanted, but it was the truth. Because neither of you wanted this, and neither of you had chosen this. Somehow it was happening anyway.

Seungmin laughed suddenly, but it was a hollow, miserable sound. Far from the boy you once knew, doubled over in the library all those years ago.

"All these years… All this time."

You watched tears slide down his face.

"And this is what beats us?"

You couldn't answer – wouldn’t answer – because what were you meant to say? There has been no scandal, no cheating or betrayal as so many feared in his industry. It was just… time. Time and distance.  Life, really. All the things that nobody warns you about that love can't always survive.

You moved closer, wrapping your arms around him. Immediately, his arms locked around you like he was afraid you'd disappear. For a long time, neither of you spoke. You simply sat there, holding each other, memorising the feeling of being in each other’s arms for what might be the last time.

Somewhere deep down, both of you already knew. This was goodbye. Not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but soon. It was inevitable, the approaching elephant in the room, waiting to make its final appearance. You realised that the end had arrived long before either of you admitted it. You were only catching up to it now.

Three weeks later, Seungmin showed up outside your apartment. There were no flashing cameras, no security or manager.  It was just him, the same way he'd come to see you hundreds of times before.

You knew the second you opened the door. His eyes were red, but then again, yours probably were too. Neither of you smiled; there was no point in pretending anymore.

"Can I come in?"

You nodded.

The apartment felt impossibly quiet. He sat beside you, close enough to touch, but neither of you were willing to. For a long time, the only sound was your breathing.

"I kept trying to think of another answer."

Your chest tightened at his words, eyes closing to brace yourself against the inevitable.

"I know."

"I couldn't find one."

A tear slid down your cheek, but you didn't wipe it away, because neither of you were pretending to be okay anymore.

"I couldn't either."

His eyes closed, and for a moment, he looked younger. Like the boy from the library, you realised painfully. The one who used to sing the wrong lyrics on purpose just to make you laugh. The one who'd stolen your heart long before the rest of the world knew who he was.

When he opened his eyes again, they were shining.

"I love you."

The words landed between you, gentle but no less devastating.

You smiled through your tears. "I know."

"No." His voice broke. "I need you to know that this isn't because I stopped loving you."

Your heart shattered. Hearing it made everything worse, and you wondered, briefly, if it would have been easier to have something worse to blame this whole thing on.

"I know."

"I'll probably love you for a really long time."

A sob escaped you, and before you knew it, he was crying, too.

Years.

Years together. Years of memories, of becoming part of each other, and now you were sitting here trying to untangle something that had rooted itself into your bones. It felt impossible, and maybe it was.

Eventually, Seungmin reached for your hand, and you let him for one final time.

"I wish I'd met you in another life."

You laughed through your tears. "One where you weren't famous?"

He shook his head. "No." His thumb brushed across your knuckles. "One where I didn't have to choose between my dream and the person I love."

The tears came harder after that.

Neither of you had ever really been given a choice, at least not a fair one. Not one that let you keep everything. Life rarely worked that way, though. Sometimes it asked for sacrifices, and sometimes it made them for you.

When he eventually stood to leave, the final moment felt impossibly small. It was just a doorway and a pair of tear-filled eyes.

A goodbye.

At the same time, it felt bigger than all your previous years put together. Seungmin looked at you one last time, memorising every last inch of your face in the same way that you were memorising him.

He gave you one last smile. It was small and broken, but no less beautiful. It was still the smile you fell in love with all those years ago.

"Thank you."

You started crying again. "For what?"

"For loving me before any of this. For knowing me before I forgot who I was."

And then he was gone.

The door closed softly behind him. The silence was overwhelming, and you stood there for a long time staring at the space he'd occupied moments before. You knew you couldn’t go back, and you couldn’t move forward, so this was the only path to take.

You knew then just how difficult this would be. Because sometimes love doesn't end when the relationship does. Sometimes it stays, lingering quietly in the spaces someone used to occupy. Not as regret or anger, but rather proof.

Proof that once, before the world claimed him, Kim Seungmin was yours.

And for a little while, you were his.

a/n: I TOLD YOU THERE WAS NO HAPPY ENDING OKAY?

you sigh as this has been a reoccurring back-and-forth between the two of you recently. you’ve decided on an earlier shift so you have the nights with him but no matter the time you’re gone, it’s still time without you. “20??— taesan, i could be fired if i show up that late.” you barely have enough room to turn in his hold and finally face him.

“shh, i’ll drive you. that’ll save you tons of time” he smiles lopsidedly at the sight of your face, thinking his plan is foolproof. he starts looking at you with those stupidly cat-like eyes that he knows you’re weak to because he thinks he’s soo clever.

“in order to drive me you also need to be awake.”

…

“we can figure that out later, darling please?” he groans and buries his face back into your neck. taesan is fully willing to let you drop your job and become the main provider. all for 20 more minutes in the mornings.

it came as a surprise to you to find out how clingy he was at home. at least in the beginning of your relationship; in public, he’s a stoic gentleman that keeps a steady arm around your shoulder or your back as you peruse around. occasionally his pinky will reach for yours and eventually engulf your hand as he pulls you closer. but at home? it’s physically impossible to pry him off of you.

taesan is fully on top of you on the couch, watching videos with you as you scroll on social media. he’ll poke at you while you prepare a snack and even keep his chin on your shoulder while you get ready in the mornings.

but that’s exactly the problem. getting from point a, the bed where he’s keeping you trapped, to point b, the bathroom while you do your hair.

you try meeting in the middle, offering 10 minutes and extra kisses. he counters with 17 minutes and his hoodie for the day. you tell him 13 as you consider leaving your hair in a looser style. taesan ponders, resting his forehead on yours as he makes his final decision.

“15 minutes.. and i get you breakfast. but!! you have to eat it in the car. with me. together. before you leave.” he has that dumb smile on his face that you just can’t say no to and that’s when he knows he has you.

his playfulness lately has been affecting you harder each day and seeing him be an unashamed, sillier version of himself melts your heart in a way you can never deny.

and so taesan falls back asleep with a smug grin on his face, so so proud for getting you all to himself while knowing he’ll still ask for 5 more minutes once you turn your alarm off.

“Hmmm? There is a lot that can be said. But I just want to say this then, couples out there, no matter who you are or who you are with, you’re bound to get into some arguments. That is inevitable, but it's the way you solve them that would make your relationship stronger.” 

“Well said. And again, if you don’t mind me asking, have you gotten into arguments with your wife?” 

“I have, yes.” 

And just as he answered, his phone rings. 

“Well, my wife is calling.” 

“Would you like to answer it?” 

“If that’s okay?” 

“Go ahead.” 

“Hello?” Jeongin answered. 

“Innie, we ran out of snacks. Can you get more?” 

“Of course, Jagi.” 

“Awww…” The host chimed. 

“Wait… am I on air?” 

“Yes.” Jeongin chuckled as he heard you let out an amused sigh. “Wanna say hi to everyone?” 

“Hello everyone?!” 

“Jagi, have we gotten into arguments?” 

“Yeah? Quite a few but we worked them out at the end. That’s why we’re still together.” 

“And there goes my point.” 

“Is there anything else you would like to say to our listeners, Y/N-ssi?” 

“Hmmm? Love and respect one another. That may sound like the obvious, but those are two very different things.” 

“Well said, Jagi.”

the apartment has a specific kind of quiet when Chan is away.

you’d never noticed it before he became a permanent fixture in your life, the way a place can feel like it’s missing something without being obviously empty. everything is where it should be. his stuff is still here, his stupid oversized chair you’d complained about when he first brought it in and now exclusively sit in when he’s gone, his collection of things on the kitchen counter that don’t quite have a category. all here. just not him.

you’d been fine about it, mostly. you were always fine about it. it was a known quantity, the tours, the schedules, the time zones that made calling an exercise in math you were too tired to do at 11pm. you knew what you’d signed up for and you didn’t resent it, not really.

you just missed him. that was the whole thing. you just missed him a completely unreasonable amount for someone who was, by all accounts, a functioning adult.

your friend had told you to get a plant to cope.

the plant died in two weeks.

by week five you’d settled into a routine you were only slightly embarrassed about. dinner, the chair, whatever show you were using to avoid thinking about the time difference, asleep by eleven if you were lucky.

tonight was like that. you’d been horizontal on the couch for an hour, half watching something you’d already seen, and had at some point migrated to the bedroom and fallen asleep on top of the covers with the lamp still on, fully dressed, which was not your finest moment but also there was no one home to witness it so.

you don’t know what time it is when you hear it.

a sound. faint. from somewhere in the apartment.

you’re awake immediately in that unpleasant way, heart already going, the lamp still on and the room disorienting for a half second before your brain catches up. you lie still. listen.

another sound. the distinct specific creak of the third floorboard in the hallway, which you know because it had annoyed you for months before you just accepted it as a feature.

someone is in your apartment.

you grab the first thing within reach, which turns out to be a hardcover book, and you are fully aware this is not a weapon but you are committing to it, and you get up, and you go to the door, and you yank it open —

Chan screams.

you scream.

he drops his bag. you throw the book. it hits him in the shoulder.

“ow —”

“WHAT —”

“it’s me, it’s me, it’s —”

“CHRIS —”

“it’s me!” he’s got both hands up, half laughing, fully wincing, and he looks exhausted and travel-rumpled and real, actually real, standing in your hallway at whatever hour this is, and you stand there for a full three seconds just breathing.

“I threw a book at you,” you say.

“you did,” he agrees. “it was a big one.”

“I thought you were a burglar.”

“I live here.”

“I didn’t know that at the time.” you’re still staring at him. your heart is doing something complicated. “you didn’t tell me you were coming home.”

“it was supposed to be a surprise.” he drops his hands, and the smile he gives you is tired and warm and so familiar it does something embarrassing to your chest. “surprise.”

you cross the hallway and walk directly into him, and his arms come around you immediately, and he smells like travel and his own shampoo and you press your face into his shoulder and don’t say anything for a moment.

“hi,” he says, quietly, into your hair.

“you scared me half to death,” you say.

“I know. I’m sorry.” he doesn’t sound very sorry. “the book thing was a good instinct though. very brave.”

“shut up.”

he laughs, low, and holds you tighter, and you feel him exhale like he’s putting something down, some tension he’d been carrying, and you understand that because you’re doing the same thing.

“how long,” you say.

“ten days.”

ten days. you do the math without meaning to, already aware of how fast that will go, already not wanting to think about it.

but that’s later. that’s a problem for a different night.

“you should’ve told me,” you say, not moving. “I would’ve stayed up.”

“you were asleep at —” he checks his phone over your head. “one in the morning.”

“I would’ve stayed up,” you repeat, which you both know is not true, and he makes a sound that means he knows it too.

“the plant died again,” you say, after a second.

he pulls back just enough to look at you. “you got another one?”

“I was trying to cope.”

he stares at you for a moment, then laughs, real and warm, the tired kind that comes from somewhere genuine, and you feel it more than you hear it and you’ve missed that too, specifically that, you’d forgotten how much until right now.

“go back to sleep,” he says, steering you gently back toward the bedroom. “I’ll shower, I’ll be quiet.”

“you’re already failing at quiet.”

“that was your fault, you scared me.”

“you broke into our apartment.”

“I have a key—”

“at one in the morning—”

“it was a surprise—”

you’re both still arguing about it, low and fond, when you reach the bedroom, and Chan turns the lamp off, and outside the city does whatever the city does at this hour, and the apartment doesn’t feel quiet anymore.

it feels like his again.

which means it feels like yours.

© softasapril — 2O26

It’s not quite the place people would expect to go after work. However, Changbin has a good reason. There’s a special someone working at the hospital and that person is you, his beloved and precious wife. As soon as he walked in, the receptionist and friend of yours recognized him. Not for his idol image, but as your husband. He didn’t even need to say anything before telling him what floor and area to go to to find you. 

“Thank you.” He would shyly say as he made his way to the elevator. 

As the elevator was going up, he started thinking, holding the bag up to see if this was actually enough. He’s known to be a hardworking man, but he would disagree seeing what you have to deal with constantly on a daily and nightly basis. Unfortunately, you were given the late shift today and unsurprisingly, you're short staffed meaning you have to ensure the hospital is up and running with the few co-workers you have. Once the elevator dinged, the doors opened, he walked out before the people waiting for the elevator walked in. 

He looked around the hall, side to side, and thankfully, he stumbled across one of your co-workers. 

“Oh, Changbin? You’re here.”  

“Yeah, I just wanted to drop a few things off for my wife.” He said joyfully as your co-worker nodded. 

“Follow me.” 

And he does just that. 

He followed your co-worker to the break room. Your co-worker knocked on the door first which made you sit up in your chair from a peaceful nap you were having. 

“Y/N, someone is here to see you.” 

“Hi Jagi?” 

“Binnie! What are you doing here? I told you to go straight home.” You lightly scolded, getting up from where you sat to kiss him on the cheek. 

“And I brought these for you.” 

“You shouldn’t have.” 

“Hey, can’t have my wife go hungry on her shift and I brought this for you too.” 

“You even got my favorite drink, you’re going to make me cry.” 

“It’s been a long day? Huh?” He asked, hugging you. 

“It’s always a long day around here.” Your co-worker chuckled. 

“Can’t forget, here brought some things for you guys too. You nurses are really one of the toughest people I know.” 

“We have to be, otherwise, how else can we save lives?” You said. 

“Well then, I won’t be staying for long and as for you my amazing, hardworking wife I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

The confusion on his face lasted approximately two seconds before it disappeared, replaced by something closer to annoyance.

"What?"

"The letters." You folded your arms. "What letters?"

Now it was his turn to stare.

"You know what letters."

"No, Felix." Your voice rose. "I very clearly do not."

A frown appeared on his face, annoyance building at your denial. "The letters I sent you."

The words hit like a physical blow. Neither of you moved as you tried to process what he was saying. You were sure there was no way he could have sent you letters, because you would definitely have received them.

He continued, unaware of your inner turmoil. “I sent you one every month, Y/N."

You blinked. "What?"

"For a year."

Your stomach dropped. "No."

His expression hardened. "Yes."

"No."

"I did."

The certainty in his voice made your pulse quicken. "No, you didn't."

His jaw clenched. "I did."

"You're lying."

The words escaped before you could stop them, and your stomach dropped at the look on his face. Genuine hurt flashed across his face, but he held eye contact as he answered you, refusing to shy away from your words.

"I'm not lying."

The alley suddenly felt too small. Too narrow. Too quiet. You stared at him as he stared back, and slowly, a horrible realisation began to creep into both your expressions.

Your voice came out quieter this time. "...I never got any letters, Felix."

Felix froze - actually froze – and you saw the colour drain from his face as he stared at you in disbelief. "What?"

You shook your head, repeating yourself. "I never got anything."

The silence that followed was deafening, and for several seconds, neither of you spoke. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. You could understand one missed letter – accidents happen all the time – but more than that? How was that even possible?

Felix’s voice brought you out of your thoughts when he asked, "What do you mean you never got anything?"

The question came out almost breathless, and you shrugged your shoulders helplessly in response, unsure of what more you could tell him.

"I mean exactly what I said."

His eyes searched yours desperately, like he was trying to determine whether you were joking or whether this was some elaborate attempt to hurt him. When he found nothing but confusion staring back, his expression slowly crumbled.

"I sent twelve."

Your heart stopped at the heartbreak in his voice. "What?"

His voice grew distant as he continued, stuck in the past, thinking about it. "Twelve letters. One every month."

You felt sick at his words, hand coming up to cover your mouth.

A year.

A whole year.

A year of letters you'd never seen. A year of words you'd never read. A year of explanations you'd never received.

"I never got a single one of them, Felix."

Felix looked away first, running both hands through his hair. For the first time since Paris, he looked genuinely shaken. Long gone was the guilt, the sadness. It was replaced by sheer disbelief – at the situation, at how different things could have been had you received even one of them. He looked as though the ground beneath him had suddenly disappeared when the next words came out of his mouth.

"I thought you were ignoring me."

The confession was so quiet you almost missed it, and you were taken aback by what he said.

“Ignoring you? Felix… I was too busy missing you.”

His laugh was humourless, broken. His eyes started watering as he continued, "I thought you hated me."

The words landed heavily between you, but he wasn’t finished. It was as if you had reached inside him and uncapped years’ worth of bottled emotions.

"After the first few months, I thought maybe you were angry." His eyes met yours again. "Then after six months... I thought you never wanted to hear from me again."

You couldn't speak, because suddenly pieces of the puzzle were rearranging themselves. Pieces that had never fit before, that you'd spent years trying to understand.

Then anger surged back.

"What kind of idiot sends letters?" you snapped.

Felix blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You had a phone."

"I got a Korean number."

"So?"

His frustration matched yours immediately. "So I couldn't just hand it out!"

You threw your arms into the air. "You couldn't text me?"

"No."

"Email?"

"No."

"Social media?"

His laugh this time was genuinely disbelieving. "Y/N, I was a trainee."

You opened your mouth, but he continued, ranting now.

"I barely had access to my own accounts. I wasn't allowed to share my private number. I was already risking things by sending you so many letters! Letters you didn’t even get."

By the end of it, his voice had risen to bounce off the walls of the dark alley around you. To some, it might have been intimidating, but to you, it was refreshing. Felix had always said more when he was angry.

You were still confused, though, because out of all the things he could have done-

"Letters?"

"What else was I supposed to do?"

The question echoed through the alley, joining the rest of his annoyance. And frustratingly... You didn't actually have an answer. Because when you thought about it, letters did make sense. They were definitely old-fashioned and annoying, but possible. If he genuinely couldn't contact you another way.

You hated the whole situation because it made everything more complicated. And complicated was the last thing you wanted. Your chest felt tight, and your head hurt. Nothing made sense anymore. You had spent years missing him, trying to get over him. Years convinced that he had left without a word. And now, you were learning that those years spent in silence had possibly been a lie.

Finally, you looked at him. "If you were trying so hard to contact me..."

Your voice cracked slightly, but you had to carry on. You had to know.

"Why did you leave?"

The question you'd carried for two years. The question at the centre of everything.

Felix immediately went still, and the tension between you shifted. Changed. It became something heavier, more suffocating. His eyes dropped briefly, then returned to yours. He looked terrified suddenly. But not of your anger, you thought, but rather the answer.

"You still don't know?"

A chill ran down your spine. "Know what?"

Felix stared at you for several seconds, refusing to answer. He looked away, and you could see the fight behind his eyes about whether he should tell you the truth or not.

“Felix… Please. Tell me.”

He sighed, a slow exhale, before he cleared his throat and spoke. "The night before I left."

You frowned. "What about it?"

His expression twisted into a mixture of pain and regret and instantly, your heart was racing.

"I came to your house."

Your heart skipped. "No."

"I came to tell you."

The world tilted. "No."

"I did."

"No, you didn't."

"I did." His voice was firm now, certain. "I packed my bags. I went to your house."

You stared. Every instinct told you he was telling the truth, and you started to pace, unsure of what to do with yourself.

He carried on regardless. "I spoke to your mum."

Everything inside you stopped and you froze in your tracks, staring at the wall opposite you. You couldn’t breathe, and with each new piece of information, it only got worse.

"I told her about Korea. I told her about the opportunity."

The alley seemed to spin slightly.

Your mum.

Your mum knew?

"No."

His eyes filled with something resembling heartbreak. "She knew."

The words shattered something inside your chest. You took a step backwards, trying to process, to understand. Trying to make it make sense.

"What did she say?"

The question came out sharp - dangerously sharp – and Felix hesitated for a moment before breaking your heart all over again.

"She told me to leave."

"No. No, she wouldn’t-"

His gaze remained locked on yours, desperate for you to understand. "She told me that if I stayed..."

His voice cracked.

"...you'd never follow your own dreams."

Your entire body went numb.

No. No. No.

That wasn't possible.

Your mother would never—

Would she?

Suddenly, memories resurfaced. Conversations you’d once considered unimportant filled with comments you'd never thought twice about. The way your mum had pushed you towards opportunities after Felix left. The way she'd insisted you move forward. The way she'd always changed the subject whenever his name came up.

Your stomach lurched, and you grabbed the nearest surface to remain standing.

Felix looked miserable. "I thought she was right."

The words barely registered because fury was already rising. The response was fast. Violent. Uncontrollable. Only this time, it wasn’t directed at Felix. It was directed at the person who had apparently made a decision about your life without ever asking what you wanted.

Your hands clenched into fists, and your voice trembled as you spoke. "You're telling me... that my mother decided what was best for me?"

Felix immediately looked alarmed. "Y/N—"

"And you listened?"

His expression collapsed. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

"The right thing?" Your laugh was sharp, disbelieving. "You left me!"

"I know."

"You let me think you abandoned me."

"I know."

"You let me spend two years believing I wasn't worth an explanation."

The guilt on his face was immediate, devastating in its intensity. Yet somehow, in this moment, it wasn't enough. Because right now, all you could think about was the fact that somebody had stolen your choice, your future, and your relationship. But the thing that hurt the most?

They’d taken your chance to decide for yourself.

Suddenly, for the first time in two years, your anger wasn't pointed entirely at Felix anymore. It was somehow the most terrifying revelation of all.

The moment Felix had finished speaking, you’d turned and walked away. Not because you were done with the conversation, or because you believed him and suddenly forgave him. You walked away because if you stayed in that alley for another thirty seconds, you genuinely thought your head might explode.

Nothing made sense anymore.

Nothing.

For two years, you'd carried a very specific version of events. Felix had left. Felix had disappeared. Felix had chosen his dreams over you and never looked back. Whilst they were painful, they were also simple. Understandable at your strongest. Now, in the space of ten minutes, that entire narrative had been shattered.

Letters. Twelve letters. A visit to your house. A conversation with your mother. A decision supposedly made without your knowledge.

The ground beneath everything you thought you knew was shifting, and you hated it.

You pushed back through the side door and re-entered the club, and music immediately hit you. People were still laughing, still celebrating. They were still living in a reality that made sense. You marched through the crowd with single-minded determination. Behind you, you could hear Felix following, calling your name. You ignored him, though.

Your bag was exactly where you'd left it, and you grabbed it so quickly you nearly knocked over a chair. You immediately pulled out your phone. One call – one answer – was all you needed. Your mother's contact appeared on the screen, and you pressed call without hesitation. Your temper flared when it rang out to voicemail. You ended the call and immediately tried again, and again. When you noticed the time, you realised. It was one o'clock in the morning, and most normal people were asleep. Unfortunately, normality felt completely irrelevant right now. You lowered the phone, your heart hammering. Your thoughts were racing so fast you could barely keep up with them.

"I need to go home."

The words escaped before you'd fully processed them. Felix was standing a few feet away, watching you carefully.

"Y/N—"

"I need answers." Your voice shook, thinking out loud. "I need to know if he's telling the truth."

He flinched slightly at the word he, but you didn't care.

"I'm driving there.”

The decision had already been made. Your childhood home was only a couple of hours away. You could be there before sunrise, wake your mother up and finally get some answers.

You turned towards the exit but paused when you felt gentle fingers close around your wrist. Slowly, you looked down, and then up into Felix’s worried gaze.

He released you, stating with certainty, "I'll drive."

"No."

"I'll drive."

"I can get a car."

"Y/N."

You shook your head. "No."

His expression softened, but the stubbornness remained. Your heart unhelpfully skipped a beat when you noticed how concerned he looked, too.

"Please."

Just one word. That’s all it took to break your resistance. Not an argument or an explanation, just please. If you were honest with yourself, your thoughts were a complete mess right now, and you probably shouldn't be behind the wheel, but you hated that he was right.

Eventually, you exhaled – once, slowly - then nodded.

The drive was strange, but surprisingly not awkward. After everything you'd learned, awkwardness felt far too small a word. The silence between you wasn't uncomfortable. It was heavy, thoughtful. Tense. The sort of silence that existed because both people were trying to process something too large to put into words.

Streetlights passed rhythmically outside the windows, and the motorway stretched endlessly ahead. Occasionally, Felix glanced at you, but most of the time, he didn't. Most of the time, he simply focused on driving. You, on the other hand, stared out of the window, your thoughts spinning endlessly.

Your mother knew.

The sentence repeated over and over. Your mother had known that he was leaving – why he was leaving – and where he was going. Known he'd come to say goodbye. If Felix was telling the truth... The thought made your stomach twist. You couldn't think like that yet. Not until you heard it from her, until she confirmed it herself.

The hours slipped by, and at some point, exhaustion finally began catching up with you. You hadn't slept properly since Paris, and then there had been the concert, followed by the party and the argument with its revelations. Your body was running on fumes, and you desperately tried to fight it at first, but eventually your eyes began drifting shut.

When Felix glanced across a few minutes later, you were asleep. You were curled against the passenger door, one hand loosely wrapped around your phone. Your expression had finally relaxed for the first time all evening, and all the anger, frustration and confusion was finally gone. He knew it was only temporary, but he was glad of the break that sleep provided for your mind.

He swallowed hard before tearing his eyes away, back to the road. Seeing you like that hurt, he thought. He didn’t think that you looked vulnerable, but you definitely looked exhausted, and he knew exactly why.

By the time he pulled up outside your childhood home, it was after three in the morning. The house sat in darkness, every window black, and everyone inside asleep. Felix killed the engine, and silence settled around the car. You didn't even stir, completely at rest in his passenger seat. For several seconds, he simply sat there, watching the house whilst he listened to your soft breathing.

Eventually, he reached into the back seat slowly and retrieved his jacket, afraid of disturbing you. He draped it over you, the oversized material immediately swallowing half your frame. You shifted slightly, and his breath hitched for a second. He smiled sadly to himself when you just snuggled deeper into his jacket.

He settled back into his seat to wait.

When you woke, it took several seconds to remember where you were.

The first thing you noticed was the sunlight - soft golden morning light filtering through the windscreen. The second thing you noticed was the jacket. The third—

Everything.

The letters.

The conversation.

Your mother.

The house.

The revelation hit like a train, and you sat upright immediately. Beside you, Felix was still there, exactly where you'd left him. He was sitting in the driver's seat, awake. His eyes looked tired. The sort of tired that came from not sleeping at all, you realised.

"Did you sleep?"

A small smile appeared. "Not really."

You looked at the dashboard clock.

6:03am.

Your stomach dropped. "You stayed awake?"

He shrugged, as though sitting in a parked car for three hours wasn't remotely unusual. You opened your mouth to say something before closing it again, because suddenly, none of that mattered.

The house and the answers. That was what mattered.

You shoved his jacket into his arms, unbuckled your seatbelt, and climbed out quickly. The cool, sharp morning air hit your face immediately, wiping away any lingering fatigue. Behind you, Felix emerged from the car, but he didn't say anything or try to stop you. You marched straight up the path, past the flower beds and the familiar windows. Past every memory you'd ever made in this house. Your pulse thundered in your ears as you felt the weight of years of unanswered questions sit heavily in your chest.

Finally.

Finally.

You reached the front door, hand raised to knock.

For the first time in two years, you were about to hear the truth from the person who owed it to you most.

The door opened almost immediately. Your mother had always been an early riser, so you weren’t surprised.

What was surprising was how quickly her expression changed.

One second, she was opening the door with sleepy confusion. Next, she was staring at you. You watched her eyes drift past you, towards the driveway, towards Felix. He was standing beside the car with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, looking just as tense as you felt. For a moment, nobody spoke, but you saw the look of anxiety on your mother’s face. In that instant, before a single word had been said, you knew.

She knew exactly why you were here.

A long silence stretched between the three of you before your mother closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, she looked tired. Not sleepy, but the kind of tired that came from carrying something for a very long time.

"Come inside."

You walked past her without speaking, Felix following several seconds later. The familiar scent of your childhood home hit you immediately, and for a brief moment, memories threatened to surface. Christmas mornings, school mornings, family dinners. The countless evenings you'd spent sitting in this kitchen. You shoved all of it away, though, because right now, nostalgia felt like the last thing you needed.

Your mother led you through to the kitchen. It was the same kitchen with the same table and worn wooden chairs, but everything felt different now. You sat automatically, and across from you, Felix hesitated before lowering himself into the seat beside you. Exactly where he used to sit years ago.

The familiarity of it made your chest ache.

The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable. Now that you were here, you weren’t sure whether you should let your mother start or say something yourself. You didn’t know whether to mention your argument with Felix or how angry you were.

Your mother stood before you had to decide, disappearing from the room with a simple "I'll be right back."

A cupboard opened somewhere, then another. You heard drawers slide open, followed by something shifting. Beside you, Felix remained completely silent, but you could see the tightness in his jaw, his eyes fixed on the table as he waited. Eventually, your mother returned, and in her hands was a bundle of envelopes.

Your breath caught.

The room suddenly felt smaller as she placed them carefully on the table between you. For a moment, nobody moved. You stared until your vision went blurry. Even from where you sat, you recognised the handwriting. Your heart dropped. There were twelve letters, maybe more, all tied together with a faded ribbon. All unopened. All untouched. The sight made you feel physically sick.

Slowly, your gaze lifted towards your mother. She looked older than she had thirty minutes ago, smaller somehow.

"I kept them."

The words sounded fragile, and you felt your face twist in anger.

"Why?"

Her eyes filled immediately, but it only made you angrier. Why was she upset when you were the one who had suffered for years? When both you and Felix had suffered?

Your voice rose. "Why, Mum?"

"Because I thought I was doing the right thing."

A bitter laugh escaped you. The sound surprised everyone, including yourself.

"The right thing?"

She swallowed. "I knew what would happen."

You folded your arms. "Oh, I'd love to hear this."

Beside you, Felix shifted slightly but remained silent.

Your mother looked at both of you, then down at the letters. "When he came here that night... I saw the way you looked at him."

The room fell silent.

"I knew what you would do."

You arched an eyebrow. "What I would do?"

"You would've followed him."

"No."

"You would've tried." Her voice strengthened. "You would've put your life on hold."

"I wouldn't have."

"Yes, you would have." The certainty in her tone hit like a slap. "You loved him. I knew you'd try long distance."

You looked away, away from her and away from Felix, because part of you hated how accurate that sounded.

Your mother continued. "I knew you'd spend every day waiting for him."

Felix's head dropped slightly, pained by your mother’s words.

"And I knew that every dream you'd ever talked about would become secondary. I didn't want that for you. I wanted you to have your own life."

The kitchen felt suffocating by the time she was finished, and you couldn’t stop the frustrated years from welling up in your eyes.

"Really?"

Her expression faltered. "Y/N—"

"No." You shook your head. "No." The years of hurt suddenly surged forward. Every sleepless night, every unanswered question, every lonely moment. Every piece of yourself you'd spent years rebuilding. "You thought that was what was best? Was it for the best when I spent months wondering why I wasn't enough?"

Your mother's face crumpled, but you had to finish now, you had to say everything that was on your mind whilst you had the chance.

"Was it for the best when I couldn't sleep? Was it for the best when I drank myself unconscious just so I wouldn't think about him?"

The words echoed through the kitchen, and you realised your mistake a second later because Felix had gone completely still. The room seemed to freeze with him. You hadn't meant to say it. Not like that, and not in front of him. But it was too late now because the words were out, and Felix had heard every single one.

Slowly, you turned your head to face him. His face had gone white, and the devastation there was raw, unfiltered.

"What?"

The word barely emerged from him above a whisper. You immediately regretted it because you'd never wanted him to know. Those months had belonged to the version of you that you'd worked so hard to leave behind. The version that couldn't function, couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep.

The version that couldn't understand why she hadn't been enough.

Felix looked like he couldn't breathe, voice cracking as he asked:

 "You were drinking?”

You looked away, unable to meet his eyes. The silence answered for you.

"Oh, my God."

The horror in his voice made your stomach twist. Beside you, Felix dragged a hand across his face, looking completely shattered. This was clearly news to him, but it obviously would be. You hadn’t had any contact because of your mother, who was looking equally horrified.

"I didn't know it was that bad."

You laughed sharply. "Of course you didn't."

"Y/N—"

"No."

You stood so abruptly that your chair scraped loudly across the floor, the sound echoing through the kitchen. Your mother stood, too.

"I was trying to protect you!"

The words snapped something inside you, and the tears broke free, rushing down your cheeks. "Protect me? Protect me? You took away my choice! You decided what my future should look like!"

Your mother winced, trying to explain. "I thought—"

"Exactly." Your voice broke. "You thought."

The room fell silent. Your mother looked heartbroken, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care right now. Not when the hurt was still burning so fiercely, and not when two years of your life suddenly looked completely different.

Your gaze dropped to the letters. The bundle was sitting untouched on the table, waiting. You grabbed them, and the ribbon dug into your fingers, somewhat grounding you. Your mother opened her mouth, but you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to hear her explanations, her apologies, or her defence. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

Without another word, you turned and rushed out of your childhood home, the front door slamming behind you. You barely noticed the cold morning air anymore. Your vision was blurred, your hands shaking. The letters felt impossibly heavy in your hands, the weight of years of silence trapped in a simple bundle of paper.

The front door opened behind you, but you didn’t need to look because you already knew who it was. Even after all this time, you still recognised the sound of his footfall on the paving slabs outside your home. For several seconds, neither of you spoke, simply existing side by side in the early morning sunlight. Birds chirped somewhere nearby, and the world carried on as though nothing had happened. As though everything hadn't just changed.

You stared down at the bundle of letters clutched against your chest. Twelve months of words, twelve months of explanations, twelve months of him trying to reach you, stolen from you by the one person in this world who was meant to protect you and your happiness. Beside you, Felix was silent. Neither of you knew what to say exactly, because after everything you'd just learned, there weren't really any words left.

Only the truth.

And the wreckage it had left behind.

The drive back to your hotel was quiet. Not the comfortable sort of quiet that settled naturally between two people who knew each other well, and not even the angry silence that follows an argument. This felt different, loaded. As though neither of you quite knew how to exist in the aftermath of what had happened.

Your mother's confession sat between you, and the letters sat on your lap. Twelve unopened envelopes that somehow felt heavier than anything you'd ever carried. You spent most of the journey staring at them, at Felix's handwriting and the dates carefully written in the corners. Month after month, year after year. Proof that the story you'd spent two years believing wasn't the whole truth. Beside you, Felix kept his eyes fixed on the road. Neither of you attempted a conversation. What was there left to say? Every time you thought about speaking, another memory surfaced. Every time you looked at the letters, another piece of your anger shifted.

By the time the hotel came into view, you felt emotionally exhausted, the sort of exhaustion that settled deep into your bones. Felix pulled into the car park and switched off the engine. You sat there for a few seconds, dredging up the energy to move before slowly reaching for the door handle.

"Thank you."

Your voice sounded small, rough from disuse and the tears you’d shed.

Felix nodded. "Of course."

You swallowed, then pushed the door open and turned to step out. Warm fingers wrapped gently around your hand, and you froze, eyes dropping to where his hand held yours. You didn’t say anything as you met his gaze, heart breaking at what you saw. Felix was, and always would be, beautiful, but right now he looked awful.  The sleepless night mixed with the drive and everything you’d both learnt was written all over his face. There was something in his eyes, though. You weren’t sure if it was hope, fear, desperation or a mixture of everything, but you knew what he wanted. He wanted reassurance, a sign that you weren’t about to disappear on him.

Your chest tightened painfully at the sight, because despite everything, despite what the letters might contain, despite what you'd learned, you couldn't do this right now.

"Felix."

His expression softened immediately, and you hated just how much more difficult it made things.

"I need space."

The words hurt coming out. You saw the disappointment immediately in the way his shoulders dropped slightly, but you had to say this.

"I need time." Your voice cracked. "Please."

The silence stretched as his eyes took you in before slowly – very slowly – his fingers loosened, letting you go. You knew that it wasn’t because he wanted to, but because he was respecting what you'd asked, the same way he had for the past month.

His jaw tightened, but eventually he nodded. "Okay."

The word sounded reluctant, painful even, yet sincere. You managed a small nod in return, then turned and walked away.

This time, he didn't follow.

The second you entered your hotel room, the carefully maintained composure you'd been clinging to finally shattered.

You didn't bother turning on the lights, didn't bother unpacking or changing clothes. You kicked off your shoes and crawled straight into bed fully dressed, still clutching the letters. The curtains remained closed, the room remaining dark. And for the first time in years, you allowed yourself to fall apart. Quietly. The way heartbreak always seemed to happen when nobody was watching.

Hours passed, and your phone buzzed repeatedly, but you ignored it. Food arrived outside your door at some point, and you ignored that, too. The world continued turning whilst you remained curled beneath the covers, thinking and remembering. Trying desperately to make sense of everything. Eventually, sometime late that afternoon, your gaze drifted towards the bundle of letters resting on the bedside table.

Suddenly, you couldn't avoid them anymore.

Your heart immediately started racing because part of you wasn't sure you wanted to know. For two years, those letters had been trapped in limbo. They were left unopened, frozen in time with their unread words. The version of Felix who wrote them no longer existed, and neither did the version of you they were intended for. Somehow, they still felt terrifying.

Slowly, you sat up, reached for the ribbon and untied it. The paper felt fragile beneath your fingers, and you noticed that the first envelope was dated only weeks after he'd left. Your hands trembled as you opened it, then you began to read.

Y/N,

I miss you already.

The first line alone was enough to make your eyes burn, but you continued anyway. Letter after letter, month after month, you watched a year of Felix's life unfold through ink and paper. He told you about training, about being lonely, about missing home and missing you.

Always you.

Every letter carried the same thread running through it. There were stories about terrible meals, about exhausting schedules, about sleeping on buses. Stories about moments he'd wished you were there to see. The details changed, but the feelings never did.

You read until your vision blurred, then kept reading, because you couldn't stop. Not anymore. One letter described seeing something that reminded him of you in a shop window. Another described hearing a song he'd immediately wanted to send you. One talked about dreaming he'd come home and found you waiting for him. Your tears landed on the paper, but you barely noticed.

It was one of the final letters that broke your heart completely.

Y/N,

I don't know if you're reading these anymore. Maybe you're angry, or maybe you've moved on. Maybe you never want to hear from me again. I wouldn't blame you, but I still need to write this.

You pressed a hand over your mouth, trying to stop the sob building in your throat. It didn't work.

I love you. I think I always will. And maybe that's selfish, maybe it's unfair, but I can't imagine a future where I don't.

The tears came harder, faster, but you kept reading.

I know people say long distance never works, and I know everyone thinks we're too young. But I don't. I still think we're meant to find our way back to each other.

Your chest ached from the hurt because this wasn't the Felix you'd imagined. This wasn't the selfish boy you'd spent years resenting. This was someone who had been writing into silence, someone who genuinely believed you were ignoring him. Someone who had continued loving you anyway.

And the worst part – the absolute worst part - was what wasn't there in any of his letters. He never once even alluded to the conversation he’d had with your mother. He never hinted at her asking him to leave. There was no attempt to use it against her or to excuse himself by making you blame anyone else. He could have. One sentence would have changed everything, and you would have known the truth years ago. Instead, he'd protected her, respected her, even when it meant letting you hate him. Even when it meant carrying the blame alone.

Your vision blurred completely, and the final letter slipped from your fingers. You were crying harder than you had in years. For the first time, it wasn’t because Felix had left, and it wasn’t even because of your mother or the letters. It was because, for the first time, you realised how alone he'd been and how convinced he'd been that you were choosing silence. Yet he'd kept writing anyway, month after month, letter after letter, holding onto hope long after most people would have given up.

The thought shattered what remained of your heart.

Curled beneath the covers with twelve letters scattered around you, you finally allowed yourself to mourn everything that had been stolen from both of you. Not just the relationship, or the years, but the future you might have had if someone had simply trusted you enough to choose it for yourself.

By the time evening arrived, your eyes ached from crying. The letters were scattered across the bed around you. Some lay folded neatly, whilst others had clearly been reread multiple times. You had spent hours working through them, tracing familiar handwriting with trembling fingers and mourning a version of the past that neither of you had ever been allowed to have.

At some point, your phone began vibrating. You ignored it and then ignored it three more times before you grabbed it, groaning.

It was your best friend, and the second you answered, she immediately said, "You're crying."

You sighed. "Hello to you too."

"You've been crying for hours."

"I hate that you can tell."

"I've known you for a while now. We talk every day. You cry a lot."

And okay, fair.

You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling. For a few moments, neither of you spoke before you quietly told her everything, from the letters to your mother and the conversation to the drive. You explained that Felix had been writing to you for an entire year while believing you wanted nothing to do with him.

Your voice cracked more than once, but your best friend listened, for once not interrupting or joking. She simply listened.

When you finally finished, silence filled the line before-

"Oh, sweetheart."

You closed your eyes, the sympathy almost making you cry again.

"I know."

"No." Her voice softened. "I mean it."

You swallowed hard. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this."

"No."

"It wasn't."

You knew when she paused this time that she wanted to say something that she knew you wouldn’t like to hear. The thing you loved most about your best friend was that she’d go on and say it anyway.

"You need to talk to him."

You groaned immediately. "There it is."

"There it is."

"I knew you were going to say that."

"Because I'm right."

You covered your face with one hand. "He left."

"Yes."

"He listened to my mum."

"Yes."

"He made a terrible decision."

"Yes."

You sat up, huffing in frustration. "Then why am I the one who has to go and talk to him?"

Your best friend didn’t even hesitate. "Because he was twenty."

You frowned in confusion. "So was I?"

"Exactly." The answer caught you off guard, but she continued before you could interrupt. "He was twenty, in love, terrified, halfway across the world and being told by your mother that leaving was the best thing for you."

You stared at the wall. "He should've fought harder."

"He should have."

"He should've told me."

"He should have." You sighed heavily, and when your friend spoke again, her voice was softer. "But people don't always make the right decisions when they're young."

The words settled heavily. You knew she was right, and you hated it.

"You've spent years imagining that he stopped loving you." Your throat tightened at her words. "And now you know he never did." When she was met with silence, she continued gently, "You don't have to forgive him today."

You looked down at the letters, the first one sat open on your lap.

"But I think you owe it to yourself to hear everything."

Two hours later, you found yourself standing outside Felix's hotel room. You had changed clothes, brushed your hair, and washed your face. Not because you cared what you looked like, obviously! Definitely not.

Your best friend would have laughed herself unconscious at that lie.

For several seconds, you simply stared at the door before you took a deep, calming breath and knocked before you could change your mind. A few moments later, the door opened, and there he was.

Felix.

The second he saw you, his eyes widened. "Hi."

Your chest tightened. "Hi."

His expression immediately softened, as though simply seeing you there was enough.

"Do you want to come in?"

You nodded.

The conversation lasted hours. Longer than either of you realised.

At first, it was awkward, and not because there was nothing to say but because there was too much. There was years' worth of mess to sort through. Eventually, though, the walls began falling away one at a time until suddenly it wasn't awkward anymore. It was just honest in the way it used to be. The way it had always been before everything went wrong.

You sat cross-legged on the sofa while Felix occupied the armchair opposite. The letters rested on the coffee table between you - evidence. Proof. History. He looked at them for a long moment, then laughed softly.

"I can't believe she actually kept them."

Your chest tightened. "I can."

The smile faded, and silence followed for a minute before he spoke again.

"I missed you."

The words were simple, uncomplicated, yet still painful. You looked down as he continued. "There wasn't a day I didn't think about you. I looked for you everywhere." A small laugh escaped him. "You'd probably find that creepy."

You smiled despite yourself. "It is a little creepy."

His grin appeared briefly, then disappeared. The honesty in his voice when he spoke again made your throat tighten.

"I always thought I'd see you again. I didn't know how, but I knew I would."

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. He glanced towards the letters.

"You?"

The question hung between you. You knew what he was asking, and you knew he deserved the truth, no matter how messy or painful that truth would be. You told him about the loneliness, the sleepless nights, and the months spent feeling like you weren't enough. His expression slowly fell apart when you told him about the drinking. The words felt ugly and embarrassing, but you forced them out anyway. You told him how it started and how it became easier to sleep after a few drinks. How eventually it became easier to do everything after a few drinks. How you stopped recognising yourself.

By the end, the room had gone completely silent. Felix looked devastated, as if every word had physically hurt.

"You should've hated me."

The sentence emerged quietly, broken, and you looked up in surprise.

"What?"

His eyes were shining now. "I would've."

Your chest tightened. "Felix—"

"I would've hated me."

The honesty nearly broke your heart, and for a few brief moments, you simply sat watching the man across from you battle with his own inner demons.

"I missed you, too."

The confession seemed to steal the air from the room. His eyes closed briefly, like hearing those words meant more than he could explain. When he looked at you again, he seemed younger somehow, more vulnerable. More like the boy you'd fallen in love with.

Suddenly, you realised something. You weren't angry anymore. You were still hurt and confused, but not angry. At least, not the way you'd been after everything you'd learned.

You looked down at your hands. "I don't know what happens now."

The admission felt terrifying, because it was true. The future suddenly looked completely unfamiliar.

Felix was quiet for a moment before hesitantly saying, "We try again."

You looked up, but his gaze never wavered.

"Please."

The vulnerability in that single word almost undid you. "Felix..."

"Please." His voice wobbled. "I know I messed up."

You smiled weakly. "That's one way of putting it."

A surprised laugh escaped him, and the sound filled the room with familiar warmth.

God.

You'd missed that laugh.

"I know." His smile faded again. "But if there's even the smallest chance... I'll spend the rest of my life proving I deserve it."

Your chest hadn’t felt this full in years, but there was one thing still bothering you. One thing you'd never gotten an answer about.

You tilted your head. "What about that idol?"

Felix blinked. "What idol?"

"The article."

Realisation hit immediately. Then - to your complete surprise - he started giggling. Actually giggling.

You stared, frowning. "What?"

His laughter only worsened. "Y/N."

"What?"

"Oh, my God."

You folded your arms. "What?"

Finally, he managed to compose himself, barely.

"She's a lesbian."

You blinked. Once. Twice.

"...what?"

That immediately set him off again. "She's literally a lesbian."

The sheer relief that flooded through you was so immediate that it was embarrassing – and apparently obvious - because Felix noticed. The grin that spread across his face was impossible to ignore.

"Oh."

"Don't."

"Oh, that's interesting."

"Felix."

"You were jealous."

"I was not."

"You absolutely were."

You threw a cushion at him, and he caught it, still laughing. Suddenly, just for a moment, everything felt normal. Not perfect or fixed, but… normal. The way it used to be before life complicated everything. Looking at him across the room, laughing at his own terrible jokes, you felt something settle inside your chest. You realised that you hadn't just missed your boyfriend. You'd missed your best friend. He was the person who understood you better than anyone and could make you laugh when you least wanted to. The person you'd spent years convincing yourself you didn't need.  Maybe that was why this felt different now. Not because everything was magically okay, but because for the first time in years, you weren't imagining a memory. You were sitting across from him, and he was still there.

Eventually, the laughter faded, but the smiles remained. Felix looked nervous, suddenly, almost boyish.

"Can I ask you something?"

You immediately became suspicious. "That's usually dangerous."

He smiled, then took a breath. "Would you go on a date with me?"

The question hung between you. It was simple, hopeful, yet terrifying. You stared at him for a long moment before a soft, genuine smile slowly spread across your face.

"Yeah."

The relief that crossed his face was almost comical. "Yeah?"

You laughed. "Yeah."

For a moment, he looked completely overwhelmed. Then he smiled, too, and somehow, for the first time in a very long time, the future didn't seem quite so frightening. You didn't know what would happen next or whether things would be easy. You didn't know how long it would take to rebuild trust, or whether either of you would get everything right. But as you looked at Felix sitting across from you, smiling like he'd just been handed the entire world, you realised something.

For the first time in years, you wanted to find out.

And whatever the future held, you found yourself hoping it held him, too.

a/n: phew! That became a lot more complex than I was originally planning. The majority of you wanted a happy ending and I tried to deliver! What do you all think? Lmk in the comments! xo